Shiny and Blue
by Der Mondstrahl
Summary: Harry finds himself in 1957 with new powers. With a job at Hogwarts, he makes friends the with adults from his youth like Albus and Minerva, and deals with old enemies. This story has action, adventure, humor and romance! Slash scenes are well marked.
1. The 13th Room

**A/N: Hello, and welcome to my fic! I hope you enjoy it. You have probably noticed that it ships Harry/Dumbledore, and if that bothers you, please don't read it. However, I have angled it so that they appear approximately the same age and are both over 18. If you like quick, sarcastic humor, subtle references, and Harry Potter, this is the fic for you.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor anything to do with it, and I'm not making money on this. Your feedback is the currency of this work.**

**This is rated M for m/m sexual situations and to give me license to swear and be a little bloody throughout. There are only two chapters with real slash, and the slash in each is well marked and easy to skip if that's not your thing.  
More notes at the bottom.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry James Potter dodged a curse. He flung himself through a door, slammed it shut behind him, and sealed it with a quick "_Colloportus!" _He took a moment to get his bearings, but just then the room started to spin. At least he knew where he was; he was in the spinning room with a lot of doors in the Department of Mysteries. He tried to mark the door he'd come from, but it vanished in a blue blur of candle light.

The room stopped spinning and Harry looked around quickly, shaking himself to get rid of the nausea. Well, he knew where his attacker was. Guessing by the pounding behind one of the doors, she was still unable to get through. Harry paused to think for a moment. There were twelve doors—no, thirteen. There had been twelve during his fiasco in his fifth year, but since then one had been added. During Harry's Auror training, he and his coworkers had studied all of the rooms in the Department of Mysteries. Harry knew which doors led where (or, as well as he could with them moving occasionally), and knew about the contents of each room.

Except the Thirteenth Room.

Nobody ever mentioned the Thirteenth Room. Harry knew the others could see the door. He'd often see people stare at it and then look away quickly, as if frightened they'd be caught looking. Harry'd always wondered what was inside, but something told him never to ask.

So if Destra Jones (the unbalanced criminal Harry was assigned to detain) was in the Time Room, three doors to the right would be the Thirteenth Room. He bore that in mind as he tried to pick a room for regrouping.

Just then, Jones burst through the sealed door. Harry swore as the door slammed shut behind her and the room started spinning again. She aimed a curse at him, but it landed five feet to his left due to the spinning of the room. Was her vision bad? Maybe Harry could use that to his advantage—but not just now. The room stopped and Harry picked a door at random and dove through it.

The door snapped behind him and Harry locked it and sealed it.

The crack between the door and the frame vanished as the surfaces between them became one.

"What?" That had never happened before. Maybe he'd done the spell more powerfully that usual.

Harry leaned against the door and looked around the room.

"Oh no," he groaned. He'd never seen this room before. Doors moved around occasionally, and sometimes things were added or taken from rooms, but there were never _new _rooms.

Harry was behind the Thirteenth Door.

"Oh no…" He needed to get out of there. This was not the moment for exploration. "_Alohamora! Alohamora! Aloha_—shit!" Not only did the spell fail to open the door, the door melted into the wall. There was no door anymore.

He pressed his ear up against the wall where the door had been. He could hear Jones on the other side making muffled incantations. He reached up to push his hair out of his eyes.

He was sweating.

Harry James Potter had been the Boy who Lived, he'd been the Chosen One, and then the Master of Death and now he'd moved on and become an Auror for the Ministry of Magic. He may have been an Auror, but, he thought to himself, he was doing a shit job of it at the moment. He was trapped by his quarry in the unknown Thirteenth Room of the Department of Mysteries. This witch was dangerous, and it was Harry's job to put her away, but right now he wasn't being very useful. If his superiors saw him just sitting there listening to a wall with a dark witch on the loose, they would not have been thrilled. Ok, so maybe they would have overlooked it because he was Harry Potter, but Harry wasn't pleased with himself.

But that's not why he was sweating.

He was sweating because it had become eerily warm in that particular room.

And the door had vanished.

The room was becoming so warm that Harry decided he'd remount his effort to escape. He'd rather deal with Destra Jones than risk combusting. He'd already decided that the room was not the best place to be, but his urgency for escape was rising with the temperature. He backed away from the door.

"_Reducto!_" Nothing happened. "_REDUCTO!" _He pushed with all of his magical might and concentration, but the door didn't budge. He exhaled in frustration. He ran his hand through his damp hair, and looked around at the room for the first time.

Now that he looked, nothing in the room looked dangerous at all. In fact, at a glance, if Harry hadn't known better, he would have guessed it was being used as storage for some old lady. As he looked closer, he started noticing specific objects around him. There was a table with a set of wizard chess. In one corner were bowling pins and a bowling ball. On a rack were several impressive hats, and there was a stack of old vinyl musical records but no player. There was a stack of rubber ducks collected on the floor, a brightly colored box of sweets (which reminded Harry fleetingly of Dumbledore), and the largest time turner Harry had ever seen.

Perched against one wall was a Lightning Model Broom which had been designed specifically for Harry by a particularly cocky craftsman. It was the best broom on the market— zero to two hundred in ten seconds, and on-the-spot turning. The handle was a dark, glossy green to match Harry's eyes, the twigs were jet black to match his hair, and on the end of the handle was a gold lightning bolt where the model name would be. It was marketed as the Chosen Broom and sold to all of the major Quidditch teams. Harry got one for free and rode it, despite how much his friends made fun of him for it; it was, after all, an excellent broom.

All in all, the contents of the room looked like a random collection of possessions—junk that one could find at most any garage sale. There were only a few objects that stood out. A few were the broom and time turner, and another was a Pensieve, which was quite rare, and a large bottle of gold potion labeled "_Felix Felecius: Luck Potion_" in messy blue handwriting. There were actually only two objects in the room that Harry _didn't _recognize. One was a large, shimmering red egg nestled in a box. It was too large to be an ostrich, and too small to be a dragon. The other object was an anvil-sized, sky-blue crystal perched on the top of a tall shelf across the room.

Deciding that his situation was dire (as his robes were becoming unbearably warm), he justified commandeering any useful objects to get himself out. It took all of ten seconds for Harry to scan the room and pick out what could be useful. He grabbed the bottle Felix Felecius and, on a whim, took a small swig. Next, he grabbed the giant time turner and placed its long chain around his neck. He didn't use it; the Department of Mysteries wasn't exactly in normal space, and Harry didn't want to end up floating around one of Jupiter's moons, but he thought he might be able to use it later to catch Destra Jones.

Having had a swig of Felix, he decided to try cursing the wall where the door was again. He tried _reducto _a few times, but it didn't work. Without a great deal of thought, and mostly out of frustration and wanting to smash something, he pointed his holly and phoenix wand at the bowling ball, levitated it, and wordlessly shot it at the wall where the door had been.

It bounced off with an almighty thud, but something—Felix—told Harry to try again, so he did. He lifted the ball from the ground again with magic, sent it to the back of the room so that it had more room to gain speed, and shot it with full force at the wall.

Instead of the thud from before, the wall cracked. When the ball fell away, there was a web of fractures about two feet in diameter. Harry wondered how a bowling ball could damage what magic could not, but wasted no time in sending the ball flying at the wall a third time. When the ball fell away, Harry could see a small hole in the wall, maybe three inches in diameter. Bits of white paint and chips of fiber drifted fell to the floor.

Then Harry noticed that the white paint was browning around the edges of the holes. No sooner had he made this revelation than a creeping hand made entirely of flame clawed its way through the hole.

Harry's breath caught in his chest. Fiendfyre. That's why the room was getting so hot. Destra had conjured Fiendfyre.

He knew the counter-curse, but the Felix Felecius in him said to retreat. Was there another door?

He backed up, never looking away from the new hole in the wall. He knew he wouldn't trip over anything; he had Felix's help with that. The fiery hand from the door had grown into an arm, and the fire was burning the hole larger and larger.

Harry didn't trip over anything, but he did walk into the towering shelf at the back of the room. The shelf wobbled, off balance, but Harry didn't look away from the door. The giant, shiny blue crystal pitched forward off the shelf and dropped squarely over Harry's head, cracking his scull.

Harry crumpled under the hundreds of pounds of weight of the crystal, which then fell to the floor and shattered. Harry landed in a bed of shards that shredded his back. The time turner swung in an odd arc as Harry fell. The way it landed caused the hourglass it to start spinning, but Harry didn't notice. His skull was cracked fatally, and blood gushed from beneath his hair, contrasting with the glittering blue crystals. Not even the roaring of the Fiendfyre could wake him.

He didn't even notice when the crystal shards started growing. As if every second was a hundred years, each piece grew and reconnected with others around it. They grew upwards and across the floor and around Harry, squeezing him into a cocoon of shimmering blue. The crystal continued to climb and spread around the room. Soon all the objects in the room were encased as well: a room full of junk trapped like bugs in a piece of amber.

A bit of crystal lodged itself in the time turner, ceasing its revolutions and the crystal, now a giant spire twisting towards the high ceiling, stopped growing.

Harry James Potter disappeared from the Department of Mysteries on February 28th in the year 2019. Reports would say that he had been consumed by Fiendyfyre cast by Destra Jones. Destra Jones was killed a week later on sight for the murder of the Wizarding World's hero, and the Thirteenth Room was never mentioned, nor seen again.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! (I really love it when people review every chapter. It makes me really happy, and it's helpful for me to see later if there are errors or things that I need to come back to.)**


	2. Asleep and Awake

**A/N: WOAH. I just saw a tree fall while I was revising this chapter. Thought you ought to know. Also, Harry's not dead (permanently)! Let me know what you think. Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry drifted backwards in time with the giant time turner around his neck, and a giant blue crystal encasing him. The crystal and all of its contents also began to drift in space, traveling slowly over London and then north. Nobody saw it, of course; it was traveling backwards in time so it didn't really intersect with the normal timeline. Even if someone had caught a glimpse, they would have thought it was just an extra shiny piece of sky.

Time travel was usually quite rapid, but this crystal was just drifting backward slowly. The time turner was quite unnerved by the fact that it was _drifting _rather than just traveling. Not only that, but it was moving in time _and _space—and then it gave the inanimate-object version of a startled jump and wondered how it could possibly be thinking at all as it was a time turner. _Preposterous! _it thought Britishly.

As it happened, objects all around Harry were having similar moments. The bowling ball had just been wondering if it would be thrown against a wall again before it realized that it was sentient. The bowling pins were trying to figure out where the bowling ball was and weren't bothered much by their own thoughts, but the broom was using its aloof thoughts to calculate how sentience could help its future. The vinyl records all wished they could play, and the rubber ducks passed the strange time by pretending the crystal was water. Even Felix Felecius was counting its blessings that its bottle had not broken when Harry fell.

Only two masses in the crystal remained unaware. One was the fiery egg. No curious thoughts passed through its inanimate shell, nor did it wonder why everything was blue. It was silent. And it was waiting.

The other silent object was the thirty-seven year old man, his body broken and lifeless. All of the objects chattered on inside their little minds, and none of them noticed the lifeless Harry.

Just as the time turner thought it couldn't possibly go back any further, the crystal stopped moving. The time turner felt relief as they stopped moving in time as well. After that, it felt nothing at all; its consciousness vanished. All of the objects' minds vanished.

And Harry's mind kicked into overdrive. His whole life began to flash through his memory, jumbled and out of order. Things from his early childhood that he never remembered as an adult came back to him—his parents, their death…

He remembered saying goodbye to his children and his godson at the Hogwarts Express. He saw it all as if he were living it.

He was living under the stairs, picking spiders off Dudley's old socks.

He watched Dumbledore's funeral from his little white plastic chair, heard the phoenix song, and felt the vacant part of his life where his mentor had been.

He was at his first day of work as an auror, packing his auror's bag with his faithful invisibility cloak, a set of replenishable potions, money, a sneakoscope and more, and then attaching it to his belt to always wear.

Then he was wielding a giant, ruby encrusted sword into the mouth of the basilisk, the phoenix song filling his heart with bravery.

And then the joy and spirit of the phoenix was replaced with anguish as he remembered his last conversation with Ginny; he couldn't do it anymore, couldn't pretend that he loved her, as much as he wanted to. He said he was sorry, but she yelled at him. She said he should have figured out he was _gay _before having children with her. Harry left feeling hurt, angry, a little confused, and entirely misunderstood. He wasn't _gay._

And then he was sailing through the air on his Nimbus 2000, diving, and then nearly swallowing the snitch to win the game.

And then he was locked in a duel with Lord Voldemort. They circled each other like lions, never looking away. Then each of their trademark spells erupted from their wands and Harry knew he would win. Albus Dumbledore had told him so, and then…

He was at the birth of his son, Albus, so named to try and fill the void Harry's old mentor had left…

He was watching from the turrets of Hogwarts while Fawkes ended his song, flying away from the castle for, Harry knew, the last time.

And then he was saying goodbye to his children and apparating to his new apartment. If he had wanted custody, he would have had it; any judge would favor Harry Potter, but Harry let Ginny keep the kids. They wanted to stay with her, and besides, he didn't have enough time to take care of them properly with his job.

He was in Voldemort's dark, wet Horcrux cave and Dumbledore was slowly turning in a circle, whispering words to the walls in a mysterious language. He stopped and pointed his wand. There, for a moment, on the rock glowed a bright, shining blue—no, bright, shining white arch, and Harry cheered, "You've d-done it!" through his chattering teeth. Dumbledore turned immediately and the glow disappeared.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I forgot," he said and pointed his wand instead at Harry. The dampness and chill in his robes vanished immediately to be replaced by warmth, like the clothes had been sitting in front of a fire for hours.

-But not just that. Suddenly warmth spread through Harry's dead, limp limbs. Tickles of blue magic raced up and down his form, piecing his cracked skull back together, replenishing his blood, charging his magic.

The other objects felt the spark of magic, too. Bent twigs in the Lightning broom repaired themselves, and the bowling ball's surface shone more brightly. The vinyl records suddenly found themselves as if they'd never been played.

Harry's memories did not stutter. He dreamt on, unaware of where he was, unaware of the passage of time. Harry slept, and the crystal remained still in a forest for ten years, almost undisturbed. Almost.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please!**


	3. The Crystal

**A/N: FYI, I adapted the theory of horcruxes slightly to work with my story, but JKR's description was vague enough (I love you, JKR) that I think it works anyway.**

* * *

Armando Dippet, headmaster of Hogwarts, was walking through the forbidden forest on the night of December 10th, 1955. He had been doing this a lot for the past ten years. He had to. He was drawn to the forest and what lay within it. He, like another, younger and less foolish man, believed himself to be the only one to discover it.

Tom Riddle had felt the crystal in the forest as soon as it had landed there in his sixth year (a decade or so previously). He sought it out immediately, and realized that he could amass great power from it. Without noticing or gaining the notice of its sleeping occupants, Tom took power from the shining blue light. The first time he approached the crystal, the whole thing turned black and dull. He soon realized that this was what he had been looking for—he could use the crystal to siphon torn pieces of his soul from his body into other objects to make his horcruxes. He loved the feeling whenever he approached the crystal and turned it black with a new ripped part of his soul. The blue reminded him of something that made him uncomfortable, but the color always returned when his soul had moved on to the horcrux.

Unlike the rising Lord Voldemort, Professor Dippet had never actually found the massive crystal until this night in December. He had spent nights searching it out, feeling its power drawing him. He greedily craved the power.

On this cold night he found it. Breaking through the woods into a clearing, the light changed from the reflective white of snow, to a glowing blue. There, the crystal towered between the snowy trees, blinking blue at Dippet in the moonlight, untainted by the dark force that once fed on it. Dippet walked, hypnotized through the snow towards it, his eyes glowing with greed. He could feel its power, much greater than his own. He wanted it.

Armando Dippet was a great educator, but was never a great wizard. He knew nothing of light and dark powers except that one was good and one was bad. He knew nothing of magical energy, except that it powered his spells. He knew nothing of the consequences that were involved with messing with powers greater than he. He was a good man, and full of life. Those two things would be his downfall.

Armando Dippet raised his wand in one hand, and reached out with the other hand for the nearest spire of blue crystal. He touched it, stiffened in shock, and knew no more as a man.

* * *

In the castle, Albus Dumbledore, transfiguration teacher, sat bolt upright in his bed, the puff on his nightcap swinging. In that very instant, he had been made headmaster of Hogwarts and he wanted to know why.

His fingers were tingling with the magic that had awoken him. The castle was telling it's new headmaster where he needed to go.

Dumbledore stepped out of his purple silk sheets wearing his matching purple silk pajamas, and picked up the Elder Wand. He transfigured his pajamas into thick robes as he dashed out of the bedchamber that was no longer his—he knew he was now to call the headmaster's tower his.

He sped through passageways behind tapestries and hallways until he reached the entry hall. The front doors flew open of their own accord, as if the castle wanted to impress its new master. Dumbledore's graceful figure darted across the field of snow, and there he stopped very suddenly. He closed his eyes. The air was still and silent, but his long auburn hair blew as if by a warm summer wind. He breathed in and out through his nose, opened his eyes and took off once more across the smooth powder and disappeared into the trees of the forest.

Dumbledore came very quickly upon the towering object of Dippet's ten year search. Dippet himself lay at the foot of the crystal like a child about to make a snow angel.

Dumbledore halted far enough from the spiraling tower of crystal that he could see its entirety. Once more, he closed his eyes and stood still. Though no wind could penetrate this deep in the forest, Dumbledore's hair swirled around him and his robes billowed. While his eyes were shut, lights danced within the crystal unlike during either of its two previous two encounters. Dumbledore, however, was unaware of this, as his eyes were shut. When he opened his eyes, the crystal had gone back to normal, but, had there been an observer, they would have seen that Dumbledore's eyes had taken on the intrigued blue dancing of the crystal. They did not betray greed, as Dippet's had, but were awestruck.

Dumbledore drifted towards the crystal, and carefully placed his hand upon it. Instead of trying to draw energy from the crystal, he looked as if he were trying to feed it with his own energy.

And then he stopped, inexplicably, and looked mildly disappointed. He turned around, and walked out of the forest and back to the castle, floating Armando Dippet beside him.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry, unseen by any of the observers of the crystal, was still reliving memories, and six of the objects in the crystal had woken up. The Bowling Ball woke with a start, searching around itself for a threat. One of the Muggle Records, whose name had worn off its round black surface, was analyzing its instincts. A particularly well crafted felt woman's Hat was enjoying gazing through the beautiful crystal. The Lightning Broom was checking over its sleek frame for damage. Harry's Wand was curiously noticing the aura radiating off of the Egg, and the Egg knew that its time had come.

_Harry, still flitting through his memories, was at his thirty seventh birthday party, cutting a slice of cake for Neville… Neville had grown very handsome since they had met last, thought Harry distractedly._

_Harry was in his crib, watching Voldemort turn his wand on his mother._

_Harry was on the back of a dragon with Hermione and Ron._

_Harry was talking to Luna, who had taken to randomly stating that it was perfectly acceptable to be gay whenever she was around Harry. Harry wondered if it was a misguided hint, or if—oh—_

_Harry stood immobile, watching as Dumbledore's visage was aflame with green light from Snape's wand. And then the freezing spell was broken and Harry could move._

And he could move.

More specifically, he could move his legs. Harry's head and shoulders were still encased in blue crystal, but the crystal was receding as he watched. However, at the moment, the world was distorted and blue around him, and he couldn't breathe.

He kicked out with his legs, but was unable to free himself. _Great,_ he thought. _I've been killed and brought back to life, only to suffocate._ Later he would wonder how he knew so certainly that he'd died.

Several feet above his head, the dark mass of the Bowling Ball freed itself from the crystal, and dropped onto the crystal surrounding his head. With a crunch the crystal cracked, and Harry could breathe, but was unable to move for several more minutes. The moment he was free, he jumped up, still standing on a shrinking island of blue crystal, and looked around hastily to get his bearings.

The crystal was shrinking, leaving behind a large patch clear of snow. By the light of the remaining crystal and the reflective snow, he could make out the trees surrounding him. He was in a clearing that looked familiar. How could he forget? It was the clearing in which Voldemort had temporarily killed him. He looked around to see if he was reliving another memory, but, seeing the crystal, he knew he was not.

On red alert, he looked around keenly, crouching low to the ground. He spotted three sets of footprints. Two led into the clearing and stopped at the edge of the snow by where the crystal had been, and one led away. Two people had been there, and only one had departed on foot.

After deeming that there was no immediate danger, Harry inspected his situation. He patted himself down. He still had all of his important body parts, and his auror's kit. He found the time turner around his neck. It had been cracked by the crystals wedged in its cogs. Scattered around him were the former contents of the crystal resting in the snow, and beyond them the trees of the Forbidden Forest. He was near Hogwarts, the only home he ever had.

He blinked.

_Harry's thoughts were wiped, and instead he was just feeling. Around him was glowing red, and he felt an overwhelming love for something near him. He knew it was close. He felt something touch his consciousness but…_

He blinked again and he was, again, observing the objects around him through his locks of black hair. He looked around the clearing, uneasily wondering if someone was tampering with his head.

He blinked.

_Harry was heavy and powerful, but had no eyes. He had no touch, no smell. His only sense was his aura, which spread out around him, paranoid, searching for danger, but none appeared. So he—_

He blinked and he was peering though his glasses into the dark. He wondered if out of body experiences were normally symptoms of being stuck in a glowing blue crystal. But, he reasoned, he was Harry Potter and had faced much worse.

He blinked.

_He was long and wiry and filled with energy. He was confident that he could do anything, go anywhere. He could fly, he could soar, he could—_

He blinked, and stooped to find his Wand. It was sitting by the Egg, which was much closer than he remembered. He picked up his Wand, and blinked.

_And he understood all of the magic around him. He was small, but his aura (for he now understood that these auras were part of his soul) stretched wide, and was stretching wider. Most relevantly, he understood his own magic, and how it must have changed in the crystal. He felt his soul, and he felt how it had bubbled—not ripped, but grown—into seven parts, and how six of them now rested in the objects around him. They were still a part of him, but they allowed him to grow and expand and change. It was like having seven whole souls that were connected by magic. He knew which objects were now a part of him, and that each of them represented a different function of his soul. And they gave him power that he never knew existed. He could feel the world around him, and he knew that he was not in the world that he had left, or the time, anyway._

He blinked.

So he had changed. His out of body experiences were his soul, his auras.

He stooped once more, and looked at the Egg closely, with new recognition in his eyes. "Come out, come out," he chuckled. When the Egg did not respond, he scooped it up and sighed. As he touched it, he felt a brief flash of playful defiance. The creature in the egg clearly had control over his aura.

He shrunk the rest of the objects in the clearing except for the Broom and put them into his auror's bag. The crystal was gone, except for the part still lodged in the broken time turner around his neck. Harry removed the time turner and placed it in his bag. He swung the invisibility cloak out of his pouch, and draped it over himself. He climbed onto his Broom—part of his soul— (briefly feeling the comforting sensation that he could handle anything), and soared off into the night to meet the future, or, unknowingly, the past.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter: Less exposition, more explanation!**


	4. Culture Shock

**A/N: Explanation time! Yay. And this chapter is newly revised, so maybe it makes more sense!**

**Please read and review! (It makes my week when people review every chapter).**

* * *

The news spread quickly through Hogwarts of Professor Dippet's death; people even seemed to know before Dumbledore announced it at breakfast. It came as a surprise to few; Dippet had grown quite old and was known to sleepwalk all the way out of the castle frequently. Albus Dumbledore, the well loved Transfiguration teacher, head of Gryffindor house, quidditch referee, and deputy headmaster extraordinaire had been made headmaster. He hired a fiery young woman, Minerva McGonagall, to fill his former rolls.

The night after Dumbledore found Dippet, he returned to the clearing where the crystal had been. He had a much more difficult time finding it that night. When he finally found himself upon the clearing, the crystal was missing and the snow was glittery and smooth. Dumbledore returned glumly to the castle, but frequently paced his office contemplating what he had seen. Occasionally his eyes would light up blue as they had on that night.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was hidden deep in the forest of Dean with his bag of soul objects (he would not call them horcruxes—rightly, as they were not), and the other miscellaneous objects that rode with him back in time. Harry set up camp and began a routine living off his surroundings.

After two weeks of living in the forest, Harry was still trying to ignore the changes that had happened to him. When he used basic magic to gather food and hunt or start fires or build shelters, he pretended it felt the same. He pretended that the sensations of directing the magic weren't completely different: clearer and more powerful.

He ignored how every time he felt happy or anxious or proud the feeling seemed to come from somewhere else.

Despite Harry's ability to conjure fire and shelter, it was January and he was cold and beginning to tire of the hard living in the forest. He wanted to know why the world felt different. And he was getting tired of killing deer. He shrunk all of his possessions into his bag (including his Broomstick; he would apparate). He used his wand to change his appearance so that no one would recognize him. He was not ready to rejoin his life as an Auror and the Man Who Lived Several Times (And Once More), and did not want people alerting the ministry of his whereabouts.

After lengthening his hair, and turning it dirty blond, hiding his scar, changing his eyes to brown, and making himself taller, he disapparated silent, and reapparated in Diagon Alley silently. He paused, wondering at how silently he'd managed to appear until he remembered he was ignoring his new powers.

Having sorely missed the taste of real food, he made a beeline to the Leaky Cauldron. He ducked through the bricks and into the pub. He sat down at the bar. A man he'd never seen was serving drinks.

"Where's Hannah?" asked Harry. His voice rasped from disuse.

"Hannah who?" asked the scruffy bartender.

"Hannah Longbottom? Is she sick?"

"Ah do not know a Hannah Longbottom, and Mrs. Longbottom does nawt frequent the pub."

"Ah, I see," said Harry, not wanting to put off his new acquaintance. "Are you new?" he asked.

"I should like ter ask yah the same question. 'N I thought this pub was world famous, not ter brag, er nuthin. Ah've been here fer near fifty years," he replied, clearly offended.

"Do pardon me, I am sorry," said Harry quickly. "I am new. In town." He knew bartender wouldn't be able to call his bluff, as no one would recognize him. "What is your name?" Harry asked.

"Ah'm Will, but folks 'round here cawl meh Whiskey."

"Hullo, Whiskey," said Harry, puzzled. He felt something within him instinctively reach out and touched Whiskey's aura. His instincts told him that whatever he was doing would be a good way of acquiring information. His mind blanched at the contact, but he became fascinated at what he was seeing. He learned that Whiskey was telling the truth. When he said "Mrs. Longbottom," he pictured a young woman with a horrible vulture-topped hat.

Through this silent exchange Whiskey stood transfixed by Harry, staring at him hungrily. Harry didn't notice, though he did notice that he seemed to grow warm and flustered every time he paid too much attention to the Record. Harry retreated into his own head, and Whiskey snapped out of his trance, slightly flustered.

"W—wut's your name, then?" he asked. He filled himself a glass of water and downed it and filled it again.

"I'm Harry," said Harry. It was a common enough name that he didn't worry about being recognized, plus he had a sneaking suspicion that, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be recognized anyway. He contemplated his new information.

"Not you—." A woman in her mid-thirties sat down next to Harry. Whiskey leaned into the bar and winked at her. "Wut's your name, Sweetheart? Is there anything I can getcha? Fire…Whiskey, maybe? "

"My name is _Mrs. _Rosmerta, and no."

Harry was startled by Whiskey's sudden change in demeanor., and wondered offhand if Mrs. Rosmerta was a sister of Madame Rosmerta.

"Well, there might be sumthin' you can get _me_, darlin'."

Mrs. Rosmerta bristled and looked like she was about to retort. Somehow, Harry felt responsible for Whiskey's behavior, so he intervened.

"Er...excuse me?" said Harry, "I'd just like some steak and kidney pie, if you've got any."

"If I've got any…If I've got any…" Whiskey tore his eyes away from Rosmerta's breasts, muttering dramatically and retreated into a back room. Rosmerta took the opportunity to storm off, muttering something about starting an establishment free of sexual harassment.

Whiskey returned a minute later with a bowl full of Harry's old favorite—and a giant bowl for himself, too. He sat down and began eating with animistic vigor.

Harry moved a stool down in order to avoid the flecks of food flying at him, and felt the bowling ball's aura creep out towards his own pie before he dug in, checking for poisons or any other unwanted substances.

He finished his pie. He ate quite rapidly. The Record shifted uncomfortably, dimly aware that it had definitely caused Whiskey's behavior with Rosmerta and maybe his new appetite (though maybe not his table manners). Harry decided it was time to leave. He left his money on the counter, and headed towards the door, only stopping to pick up a Daily Prophet.

"That Prophet's weeks old, that is!" shouted Whiskey through a mouthful of food as Harry walked out the back door.

"Not a problem," called Harry, as he absentmindedly flipped to the front page.

He made to take out his wand, but he felt his magic touch the bricks before he could get there. The bricks opened. Harry paused, frowning, before going down Diagon Alley searching for a bench on which to sit while he read the Prophet. He found one and glanced at the front page.

"_Armando Dippet Kicks It,"_read the headline. Harry chuckled. He had never gotten used to how blunt the wizarding world was sometimes. He did a double take. Armando Dippet? Wasn't he the headmaster of Hogwarts before Dumbledore? He read through the article. It was an obituary. Harry looked at the date. It read _"December 12th1955 CE." _Harry stared. By "weeks old" Whiskey must have meant thousands of weeks old. He stood up and tucked the relatively useless artifact in his bag. He only kept it because he reasoned that some collector might want it. He went searching through the Alley for a current Prophet.

He found a boy selling newspapers next to Olivander's shop, and conjured a knut from his bag to pay (he was starting to enjoy his wandless powers). He wandered off with the newspaper, and again, flipped to the front page. He looked first at the date. It read _"January 5th1956 CE." _He took a deep breath and walked back to the boy selling the newspapers.

"Excuse me, son, but I believe I've been confunded. Could you give me the date?"

"Sure thing, sir. It's the fifth of January."

"Ah…and, the year?"

The boy stared. "Nineteen fifty six, sir."

Something rose up inside of Harry. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Unbidden, the Bowling Ball's aura stretched out and enveloped that of the boy's, shaking the truth from him. The boy recoiled. Harry took control of himself, but the damage had been done. The boy was looking at him fearfully, shaking. Harry panicked, and did the first thing he thought of. He reached out to the boy with the part of him he felt when he was happy-the Hat aura, which stopped the boy's shaking. Harry wordlessly _Obliviated _him, and disapparated silently before the boy regained his bearings.

Harry was horrified with what he had done. He wanted to get back to his own time. Back in the forest of Dean, he stretched out his magic. He focused completely on his wand and his magical core and willed himself to move rapidly forward in time. He thought of freezing himself and hiding himself away, but he had no guarantee that he would be found at the right time. As a last resort, he pulled out the broken time turner, but as he did, he touched the crystal. Suddenly he was hit by a rush of memories from his old life. He remembered his days in the future, and realized that they were purposeless and empty. He didn't do anything that another wizard couldn't do. His talent and life was being wasted. He was Harry Potter, however, and certain things had been expected of him. He was locked in his profession, and he would never be able to live up to his childhood years. His friends might miss him, sure, but they had each other, and their children. His own children had Ginny, who had proven herself a perfectly competent single mother.

In the past, he had never been known. He wasn't even sure his parents had been born yet. He was free to start himself a new life. He abandoned his futile attempt at rejoining his future, and began worrying about the present. He knew he should give the fifties a chance.

Harry knew that he had a lot of work to do before he could come in contact with a wizard again. He sat under a tree making his plans, a hand on his chin. He needed to explore and practice controlling his auras. He needed to practice making his auras undetectable to others, and keep them from affecting others. He needed to start his magical education from the beginning, taking into account how his magic worked. Eventually, he needed to make himself an identity to rejoin the wizarding world.

Also, he needed to shave.

* * *

Harry soon realized that being in the crystal must have caused specific parts of his soul to grow into each of the six objects. He started his new magical education by giving himself over to each of his parts individually to sample the effects. He found that he could focus on one part, if he kept a physical distance from the other objects. Eventually he learned to focus on each without the physical distance.

First he started with the hat because it seemed the most innocent. He put it on and spent a day thoroughly enjoying building snow men and conjuring birds and bewitching them to fly in happy formation. Clearly, he thought, he had discovered the part of his soul that was joy and freedom.

Next, he ran wild in the woods for several days while in contact with the Muggle musical record, his instincts taking over. He snapped out of it after he had fed several times on raw, hand hunted meals, and some of his _other _instincts started taking over. He did not explore the possibilities on that front, but he understood that the record represented his basic instincts.

Harry practiced his flying skills on his Broom, his confidence and connection with the object allowing him to soar to new heights, so to speak. He could now maneuver better than any flier ever had—or would—on any broom. He believed his ego and confidence and pride resided in the Broom.

He spent a very twitchy night after connecting with his inner bowling ball. He was plagued with thoughts that someone had locked him in the crystal to kill him. He feared that he would never be able to leave the forest. He jumped at every crack of a stick. He dreamt of Voldemort killing his parents for the first time in years. He felt angry, and paranoid, and fearful. Though he had known that all of these were a part of him, it took some adjusting to their new potency.

His wand guided him though all of his magical endeavors. He realized that it was his magical core. He spent a few days focusing on all of the magical auras of the trees and animals around him. He realized that in magical beings, thought and intention was connected to the magical aura. He felt where spells had been cast, and he was able to cast wandless spells more powerfully than any spells he had ever cast before. He no longer needed to rout magic through his body.

In his body resided the seventh part of his soul, which beat his heart, digested his food, took in and released air. Harry found that he could function normally if he stayed attune to each of his pieces in moderation.

The only object that he did not explore was the Egg. He tried, but it remained silent at his touch. It did not take his consciousness into itself as it had on his first night in the past, though he felt a powerful and strange aura within it. He felt like whatever was inside was hiding the part of his soul from him so that he couldn't get inside, but it didn't feel hostile. He left it alone after a while, not wanting to disturb it. He was confident that it would open up (literally and figuratively) when Harry needed it.

* * *

**A/N: So, seriously, if this doesn't make sense yet, send me a review-slap.**

**Next Chapter: Harry rejoins the wizarding world, has some fun messing with Voldemort, and cracks the egg mystery, so to speak.**


	5. Old Faces

**A/N: Please review! It's super encouraging! This fic is intended to be both historically and canonically accurate, but very occasionally I bend things. For purists, see note at the bottom.**

* * *

Dusk was falling as Harry Potter—officially known as Harry Crockett, according to the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts bank—apparated into Knockturn Alley from his flat in London. After magically creating himself an identity, he proceeded to invest all of the thousand galleons of his auror's kit money in various wizarding businesses that he knew would do well. He had never been very good at history, but he knew which broom companies did well, and which stores lasted. Wizards were usually in need of venture capitalists.

He made a lot of money very quickly and after a year and a half, no one could possibly guess that he'd been living in a forest.

Harry spent some of his money on his modest flat in London, and more on robes and other clothing items. He had tried to conjure his own clothing, but they always ended up blobby and wrong. He didn't have a clear enough understanding of fashion and clothing design to know what he wanted to conjure without seeing it first. He purchased a large quantity of swishy black robes and cloaks, some robes and cloaks of various colors that the shopkeepers said looked good on him ("green, to match your eyes, dear…and blue contrasts with your hair…and dark red to…"), a few scarves, black gloves of leather, dragon hide, and silk, a large collection of very warm socks, and some new boots.

He deposited the rest of his money into Gringotts, not needing to spend any on magical supplies. He could conjure those.

He made an effort to appear normal, and worked at reincorporating himself into the wizarding community (mostly through consumerism). He had learned to control his auras so that if he was concentrating, others wouldn't feel their influence. His physical appearance was as Pottery as it normally was, but he had kept his scar hidden, and, after his initial disguise, had decided that he liked being taller. He now stood at about five foot ten, had a shock of black hair, and his green eyes sparkled behind his glasses. He could have fixed his eyesight, but his glasses comforted him, somehow, and reminded him that he was human despite all his changes.

His time was fairly unstructured. He received the occasional owl from his business correspondents to which he needed to respond, but he spent most of his time honing his magical and aura-related skills in empty fields and unoccupied woods.

On this particular summer day in 1957, however, he was visiting Knockturn Alley to prove a theory. He could have proven it from anywhere using his magic, really, but to err on the side of caution, he decided to do it the old aura-free way. Though he believed his magic would be unmatched if it came to a duel, his theory involved someone who's magic was advanced enough that he believed he was risking detection. So, he shielded himself up with his newly invented branch of aura-occulumency that he had been practicing for the past year, and apparated into the dusky alley. Peering through the darkness, he located Borgin and Burkes, the dark arts shop, and slunk towards it. Before entering, he glanced through the window and chuckled. He had been right.

There was no bell on the door, but the door squeaked eerily as Harry entered. Harry intentionally panned his gaze very slowly across the room before resting it calmly on the man behind the desk, who clearly looked like he was trying to intimidate the nonexistent customers. Harry calmly grinned as he met the red eyes. Harry was sure that no one had ever grinned happily at Lord Voldemort before, let alone calmly, but Harry was unworried and feeling strangely sentimental about his old foe. Voldemort, for his part, kept the shock off his face well at having someone react to him so _normally_, but Harry could tell from his body language that he was unnerved.

Voldemort smiled back at Harry, and wrinkled his nose (for he still had a nose) indulgently, as if Harry's smile had just made his gosh darn day. "How do you do, sir?" he asked, mockingly cheerful.

"Very well, indeed," chuckled Harry, "and how are you today, Mr. Riddle?"

"Fin—how did you know my name?" Voldemort asked suspiciously.

"Your name tag," said Harry, smirking. A name tag appeared on Voldemort's robes.

"I'm not wear…oh," said Voldemort, looking down at his chest, and then glaring up at Harry, embarrassment and suspicion making his eyes glow red.

Harry was enjoying the conversation. There was just something immensely satisfying about messing with the young and comparatively helpless version of the guy who killed you and everyone you considered family. Harry wasn't thinking of revenge; it was more out of sport or amusement. He had already taken his revenge when he killed Voldemort and his horcruxes when he was seventeen. He had no need for vengeful thoughts to "poison his being."

He didn't think that messing with Voldemort was going to "poison his being," though. He thought it would be lots of fun. He was right.

"So, what's a talented young man like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, and winked, just for good measure.

Voldemort widened his eyes in disbelief, but answered darkly, "biding my time."

"_Biding your time?" _repeated Harry, incredulous. He'd known Voldemort had an ego, but he didn't know it was big enough to use super-villain clichés like "biding my time."

"Till what?" asked Harry.

Voldemort had been staring dreamily off into space, but snapped back to reality at Harry's words.

"I'm going to be the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher next year at Hogwarts," he said, mumbling the words "defense" and "against."

Harry's stomach lurched unpleasantly. "No, you're not," he said, before he could stop himself.

"What did you say?" asked Voldemort, feigning deafness for the sake of drama.

"Ah, um, I was asking about…" he searched around frantically "this object!" He pointed randomly, and his finger landed lamely on the Hand of Glory. _Wow, _Harry thought, _Draco must have had really bad taste if it took over fifty years for this to sell_.

"That," said Voldemort coldly, "is the Hand of Glory. Who are you?"

"My name is Harry Crockett," replied Harry, with a grin that drew fully on concealed his hat aura. Voldemort gave Harry what he could only describe as "the evil eye."

Harry proceeded to ask Voldemort about nearly every item in the shop, testing his tangibly limited patience. He left without buying anything with a wink and a overly cheery smile (which he had to fake this time), just to irritate Voldemort.

Harry apparated back to his flat, and set down his bag. His stomach was still riling uncomfortably, and Voldemort's statement kept echoing in his mind…_I'm going to be Defense against the Dark Arts teacher next year at Hogwarts._

And then Harry knew what he wanted, and what was bothering him. He, Harry, wanted to be the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Though Harry knew that Voldemort wouldn't get the spot, the thought of anyone but Harry, and especially Voldemort, taking the job made Harry squirm with jealousy. He knew that Hogwarts was where he belonged, and teaching Defense against the Dark Arts was what he was meant to do. He wondered why he had never thought of it before.

Now that he had figured out his destiny of choice, all that was left was to actually get the job. Harry looked through his unread stack of Prophets until he found the job advertisement, published earlier that summer of 1957.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
_is in need of a_  
_Professor for the Defense against the Dark Arts._  
_Room and board will be provided._  
_Pay will be minimal. What do you expect? It's a teaching job._  
_Express interest by owl addressed to Albus Etc. Dumbledore, Headmaster._

Harry searched though his apartment for a quill and parchment, but gave up and conjured some.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_I am interested in filling your Defense against the Dark Arts position for the coming school year. I would be available for an interview at your convenience._

_Best regards,_

_Harry Crockett_

Harry finished the letter, sealed it with wax weirdly poured out of his finger. He'd intended it to be red wax, but it came out sky blue and Harry found himself too lazy to change it.

_Dumbledore, Dumbledore_, Harry thought. The man who taught and mentored him. The man who kept him on his path. The man whom he had watched die. Harry would be seeing him soon.

Behind him, he heard a soft crack.

He whirled around searching for the source of the noise with his eyes, and reached out with his auras. All of his auras. All seven. The Egg.

The Egg!

Harry darted over to the auror bag, and carefully snatched the red Egg out of it. He inspected it with his eyes, and from within it. From within it, he felt a radiating and indefinable love, but the aura wasn't as accessible as his others. Using his eyes, he saw a crack. As he watched it, the crack grew and spread and branched, until there was an island of shell wobbling precariously on... Then, and without warning, violent orange flames consumed the egg, and hid it from view.

Harry was momentarily shocked, but began to grin in awe as he realized that he could still feel the aura. The flames faded into a grey pile of ashes. An ugly grey head with greasy yellow and red feathers came poking out of the ashes. Harry's grin widened, and his heart filled up with emotion.

"Well," he said barely containing his excitement, "welcome to the world, Fawkes."

* * *

**A/N for Purists: I did a lot of research for this chapter for timeline stuff. The timeline for the job stuff **_**is **_**correct, Fawkes's appearance is ambiguous enough, and I looked carefully at Tom Riddle's appearance at this point in time, but I did mostly ignore his travels during that period. I'm working off of the theory that he went to Albania after working at B&B's, found the diadem, and then returned to B&B's shortly before applying for his job at Hogwarts. But seriously. The HPL didn't even have the details on **_**that **_**excursion.**

**Next Chapter: Harry gets to know Fawkes…and there will be something involving his job application.**


	6. Phoenix Tale

**A/N: And I'll consider it dedication and not cheating if you review more than once.**

**Also! There's a note for purists at the end concerning plot.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Fawkes fluttered feebly in the pile of ashes. Harry stooped closer, transfixed. Harry was sure that there was more than one phoenix in the world, but instinctively he knew that this was Dumbledore's old pet Fawkes. He wondered how Fawkes had gotten into the Department of Mysteries.

Harry attempted to connect with his Aura that possessed the bird. The only thing he felt was gnawing hunger.

Oh. He's hungry, thought Harry.

"What do you eat?" asked Harry.

Harry felt the bird's own aura reach towards him confidently, and Harry received a very clear picture of…a plant which he could not identify. Because he'd never seen the plant before, he knew he wouldn't be able to successfully conjure it.

"Ok, easy enough," said Harry, sarcastically. The small and grimy looking bird before him appeared to sigh. Then, it burst into flames and disappeared. Fawkes reappeared a moment later with a smoking branch with red seeds in his beak.

"I take it you want more of those?" asked Harry, a little alarmed at the small bird's disappearance. Fawkes kept staring at him. Harry concentrated, and then made a large pile of branches appear smoking and glowing on the table next to the baby Phoenix. The Phoenix cooed appreciatively, and tried to take a step towards them, but it tripped over a particularly large clump of ashes. Harry reached out to move a branch towards Fawkes, but, in another burst of flame, Fawkes disappeared and reappeared next to the pile of branches, and yawned towards them with his absurdly large beak.

"Showoff," chuckled Harry appreciatively.

As Fawkes ate, his feathers shone brighter, and his body became longer and more graceful. By the time he was finished, his beak didn't look nearly as absurdly large. He looked at Harry expectantly.

"Seriously? That was like…five pounds of plant." But Fawkes's look persisted. Harry made another pile of branches appear, this time he conjured enough that he was sure that Fawkes wouldn't finish them all. The table was covered in smoking branches and crackling seeds heaped a half yard high. Fawkes went to work, scooping them up and munching them happily. The occasional stream of smoke escaped through his beak. Before Harry's eyes, Fawkes's neck elongated, and his tail feathers grew several feet behind him. He acquired a luscious gold and red plume on his head. He stopped when only a third of the branches were left on the table. Fawkes was fully grown, and his stomach was slightly distended.

"Hah, I win," said Harry, looking pointedly at the leftover branches still on the table.

The rest of the pile of branches went up in flame, and Harry jumped back in alarm. Fawkes whistled in amusement, and Harry's heart filled up with his song.

"I guess they don't keep anyway, do they," said Harry, smiling.

Harry tried again to connect with the aura that resided within the bird, but only felt pieces of intense emotion and flashes of Fawkes's consciousness. He could tell that in order to leave Fawkes with his free will, he would have to access his soul at Fawkes's convenience, rather than try to break through his barriers. He wasn't even sure that he could break through; phoenixes were powerful creatures.

Harry realized that Fawkes needed a perch. He immediately pictured the cage that Headwig had occupied, but the idea of caging such a free spirited bird repulsed him. Fawkes continued gazing at him, curiously cocking his head.

"Where would you like to live, Fawkes?" Harry asked.

Fawkes continued staring at Harry, but an image floated into Harry's head. It was over saturated with fiery colors, but Harry could make out a perch before the image vanished. It looked exactly like the one that used to sit in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore. Back when Harry was in school, he had once wondered how Dumbledore acquired Fawkes. Now his mind was racing through all the possible situations that could lead to Harry's separation with the Bird, part of his soul. Harry still didn't know what role Fawkes played in his soul, but Harry couldn't imagine how Fawkes would eventually come to be Dumbledore's faithful pet and no longer an intimate part of Harry.

Fawkes cooed, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. He remembered the perch. He focused on the image Fawkes had sent him, and conjured the stand. It appeared where the branches had been. It was about a half of a meter high, and was made of elegant, dark wood. Satisfied, Harry gestured "here you go," to the bird.

The perch burst into flames.

"Picky, picky," said Harry, torn between irritation and amusement.

Fawkes sent him the image again, and Harry studied it frantically before it faded. It seemed like Fawkes showed him the image for an even shorter time to test him. Harry squinted his mind's eye at the perch, and then realized what had been wrong. He needed to make it out of metal so that it didn't burn.

He focused once more, and conjured the stand. This time, it was a rich gold. Fawkes crooned appreciatively, hopped into the hair, and landed gracefully on the perch. Harry was satisfied when it did not wobble or tip under his weight.

"Anything else?" Harry asked, stroking the bird's head. It leaned into the touch.

Fawkes turned his long neck and stared pointedly at the letter to Dumbledore on the table.

"Oh," said Harry, "do you, er, deliver?" Harry had been wondering if he should get an owl to deliver the letter to Dumbledore. He delivered all his business letters by magic, knowing that his correspondents would think owls had dropped them there, but he knew that Dumbledore was experienced in detecting magic. Harry didn't want to rouse suspicion through his talents. The protections around Hogwarts were strong and Dumbledore's office well guarded, and though Harry knew that he could send a letter through any of the obstacles, Dumbledore would surely investigate if he found a letter in his office without the memory of letting in the owl who delivered it. Phoenixes were rare, but Harry would take attention as the owner—or companion, as he thought was more appropriate—of a phoenix over suspicion for his powerful and potentially dark magic.

He thought briefly of Dumbledore detecting his aura and soul from within Fawkes, but the combination of his occlumancy and Fawkes's own forceful personality would, undoubtedly, mask all but a trace of Harry's magic. Harry wasn't unduly worried. He was only worried about degrading his new friend, Fawkes, by having him deliver messages like an owl.

Before he could voice these concerns, however, Fawkes swooped off the perch spreading his wings. He took a lap around the room and scooped up the letter.

"But it's not addressed!" called Harry. He magically opened the window just before Fawkes crashed through it.

"Annnd there goes part of my soul," he muttered, as Fawkes swooped off into the distance, Harry's scroll clutched in his golden talons. Harry stared dumbly out the window for several minutes. It had all happened so fast.

He ran over the last few minutes—for it had only been about ten—in his mind. He had learned that part of his soul resided in Fawkes the Phoenix. He knew that Fawkes was very much in control of himself, and of Harry's soul. He knew that Fawkes ate flaming plants, and could make things burst into flame. He also seemed to be able to disappear and reappear through the medium of flame. He tried to think back to what Dumbledore had said about Phoenixes. He distinctly remembered the occasion on which Fawkes had lifted Harry and an assortment of other people out of the chamber of secrets; phoenixes could carry immensely heavy loads. He knew their tears had healing powers which allowed them to regenerate, and that their tail feathers could be used in wands.

Harry strained his memory, but could think of nothing else. He decided he needed to find a book on phoenixes. He summoned his bag to him, disapparated though the protections on his flat, and appeared in front of Flourish and Blots in Diagon Alley with an intentional crack. In the book store, he found the section on magical creatures. He flipped through the titles (_Dragons for Dummies, The Values of Veela, Having a Hippogriff, Fascinating Flobberworms_, etc.). He found _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, but it only had a brief chapter on Phoenixes. Finally, he found a book called _Philosophy of the Phoenix_. He bought it.

Harry exited the shop, and, since it was a nice summer day, decided to find a place to sit outside and read. However, as he passed the entrance for Knockturn Alley, a troubling thought crossed his mind. If Fawkes had just been born about a half hour earlier, and had been mostly in Harry's presence, how did Voldemort ever get a wand with Fawkes's tail feathers for a core? Had Fawkes really just been born, or could he choose to go into an egg rather than be reborn in ashes?

Harry found a bench and flipped open the book, its new spine crackling. He looked through the table of contents until he found a chapter that looked promising. _Life Cycle…69. _Harry flipped to page 69. He scanned the chapter until he found the information he wanted.

_Phoenixes are able to regenerate after they die. For several days before they die, they wither; their feathers fall out, and their eyes dull. On their burning day, they burst into flame, and are reborn from the ashes. If the phoenix feels like it is in a threatening situation as it burns, it may choose to be reborn into an egg. This egg is gold, unlike the red eggs when Phoenixes are first born (see pg 14)._

So Fawkes was able to regenerate himself into an egg, but had really just been born. Harry was struck with wonder as he remembered how wise the bird already was immediately after its birth.

But Harry's problem was still unsolved…unless…

Harry slammed the book shut and tucked it into his bag. He tore down Diagon Alley, and ducked into Knockturn alley. He raced along, and accidentally passed Borgin and Burkes. He stopped himself, nearly tripping over a hag, and turned around. He went into the shop. The door squeaked.

Harry immediately met Voldemort's gaze. Voldemort took a moment to recognize him, and then his face contorted in anger.

"It's you. Get out," he said, his voice too controlled.

"No," said Harry, trying to provoke him.

"I told you to get out, imbecile," said Voldemort, quietly, his eyes briefly turning red. Harry laughed at his use of the word "imbecile." He reminded himself that it was the fifties and that insults went in and out of style, but he had been under the impression that "imbecile" had been considered pompous for at least a hundred years.

"I am a customer. Do you treat all of your customers this way, or is it just me? You know, they always say that boys pick on people they really like. Do you really like me, Tom Riddle?" asked Harry saucily.

Voldemort had had enough. He reached for his wand, but only managed to raise it to stomach level. Harry had, with inhuman speed and agility thanks to his body-aura, closed the distance between himself and the young Dark Lord. Voldemort was pinned against a shelf. Harry leaned in, and their chests touched. Harry's hand reached between them and grabbed Voldemort's wand.

"_Don't do that,_" Harry whispered in Voldemort's ear.

As he touched Voldemort's wand, he knew immediately that it was not the Yew and Phoenix wand that he came to use in later life. He had done what he had come to do.

"_I'm watching you, Tom," _he whispered, trying not to laugh at the cliché. He pushed off of the Dark Lord and turned around to leave.

Just then, his strong and focused instincts kicked in, and he wordlessly cast a powerful shielding charm around himself before Voldemort's curse could reach him. It bounced off the shield and was absorbed into the ceiling. Harry snorted and said, "be careful, Tom. There are powerful wizards about."

As he left, he let down the occlumency barriers on his Instinct aura as retaliation for the curse. He knew it was a little reckless to expose Voldemort to his powers, but after this close encounter, he was fairly certain that he was more powerful than the young Dark Lord. Voldemort's soul and aura was shattered while Harry's was seven times that of a normal soul, and he was more in tune with all seven of his auras than most wizards were of their one thanks to his training in the forest.

Harry made sure that he bumped Voldemort with the right part of his aura before letting go of the door behind him. The door squeaked and slammed shut, and Lord Voldemort was horrified to find himself inexplicably aroused. He prayed on all of his horcruxes that Harry had not noticed.

Harry burst into a fit of laughter. He hadn't laughed this hard since his thirty seventh birthday when Luna had explained to him that the candles on the cake were bombs planted by Lartenfluff beasts to blow up his cake. Harry had grown used to Luna's ludicrous magical theories, but he couldn't contain his mirth when Dean had blown up the cake with his wand (somehow managing to ignite Seamus's eyebrows, even though he was standing behind several people, who all remained unscathed).

Harry floated down from his high, and remembered his phoenix wand problem. If Voldemort wasn't yet using the Yew wand, then Harry's own wand probably hadn't been created either. He decided to check Olivander's.

The shop was just how he remembered it. The window held a single faded pillow with one wand upon it. He pushed inside the door. The shop gave him the same impression of a library as it had the first time he'd entered it. It was quiet, and dusty.

Only this time, with his own magical aura, he could feel all the wands sleeping in their boxes. He could feel their unused potential. He could feel their power and could compare them. He could even feel which ones would _choose _him.

He felt Olivander's presence hiding behind one of the shelves, waiting to spring out. (Harry had reinstated his occlumency so that he could browse the area with his auras as he pleased.) He tapped his foot in mock impatience, and Olivander swung out from behind a shelf dramatically.

"Ah, yes…you are a newcomer or did my father sell you your first wand?" he asked, with the air of someone who was trying to be creepy but hadn't quite gotten the knack yet.

"Hmm…none of the above, shall we say," _I guess he doesn't remember every wand he's ever sold, _thought Harry, "but that is beside the point." Olivander looked slightly abashed, but did not interrupt. "Do you happen to possess any phoenix tail feather wands of holly or yew? May I see them?"

Olivander peered at Harry, his eyes narrowed. The effect was much more impressive when Olivander had acquired long grey eyebrows. Olivander sighed, looking contemplative, and summoned several boxes. Harry moved to open one, but Olivander smacked his hand away, clearly trying to gain some control over the situation.

He showed Harry the contents of each box, and Harry frowned and motioned for the next after each one. Soon, Olivander had run out of wands. A tangled heap of wands was now piled on the spindly chair as it had on the day Harry received his wand.

Clearly Mr. Olivander thought Harry looked disappointed, because Mr. Olivander cut through his thoughts, "Sir, it is the wand that chooses the wizard! One cannot be satisfied if he is choosing the wand himself! I urge you to try them out!"

"I'd agree with you, Mr. Olivander, but I'm not here to buy anything."

Mr. Olivander looked offended, and was about to say something indignant when flames roared into being above the back of the spindly chair. When the flames faded, they could both see Fawkes perched on the chair looking rather pleased with himself.

Mr. Olivander forgot to be upset about the fire near his wands. "My word! A Phoenix! In my shop!" exclaimed Olivander.

"Hello, Fawkes" said Harry brightly.

"Is…is this your bird, sir?" stuttered Mr. Olivander.

"He is currently choosing my company, yes," replied Harry, thinking that the ownership implied in Olivander's statement was a little inaccurate.

"He is quite a beautiful specimen," said Olivander in awe.

Fawkes was indignant about being called a specimen, but Harry could feel his pleasure at the complement.

"Quite intelligent too," replied Harry, "I'm pretty sure he can understand you."

"Indeed?" said the young Olivander, slightly taken aback. Harry got the impression that Olivander mail ordered all of his phoenix feathers and had never seen a phoenix in person. His knowledge of wandlore and all of its components had clearly come with age and experience. Harry didn't know at the time, but it was that encounter that would inspire him to study wandlore.

Olivander spoke again, but this time addressing Fawkes directly.

"It is an honor, Fawkes," he said solemnly, bowing. Harry thought that bowing was a little over-dramatic, but Fawkes whistled, clearly satisfied with Olivander's new respect.

"I apologize, I have never had the pleasure of meeting a phoenix," continued Olivander, confirming Harry's suspicions. "We wandmakers" he said, his eyes going wide with practiced mystery, "use the tail feathers of phoenixes as the magical core for wands, but I knew not the true value of your species. I shall never again use feather of a phoenix, nor the hair of a unicorn without first acquainting myself with the giver."

"That could probably help you balance the temperament of the wand, too," said Harry practically. Fawkes whacked Harry in the face with his tail. Harry thought he was being reprimanded for his insensitive comment, until Fawkes kept his tail in Harry's face. Then Harry was just confused.

Then, Harry's mind's eye was saturated in warm colors, once more, and Harry could see two long feathers drifting downwards, side by side. Harry understood.

_Really? _he thought. Fawkes swished his tail, and Harry could see that two of the feathers had already dislodged. Harry stroked the tail, and pulled out the two loose feathers. Feathers had already begun to re-grow in their place.

Olivander stood open mouthed.

"These are a gift from Fawkes," said Harry, keeping the sudden swell of emotion he felt for Fawkes off of his face. He silently conferred with Fawkes, for a moment and then amended, "You may have them on the condition that you make one wand of holly, and one of yew with these feathers."

"Will you be back to purchase them?" Olivander asked, his eyes wide.

Harry chuckled. "One will be bought soon, I daresay. The other…you'll see. It might be good for you to remain…curious." He paused. "Do we have a deal?"

Mr. Olivander nodded vigorously. Harry blew gently on the feathers, and they floated gracefully, albeit more accurately than feathers normally fly without the aid of magic, to land in Mr. Olivander's palm.

With that, Harry swished out of the shop, Fawkes on his shoulder. Olivander stood behind the counter, his mouth hanging open. He glanced down at the feathers, and glanced back up to watch Harry walk down the alley, but he was gone.

* * *

**A/N for Purists: Ok, ok, I know it's generally implied that Tom Riddle's first wand was the Yew and Phoenix (it may even be stated outright), but it didn't say so on the Lexicon so I decided it wasn't an important enough detail for me to mess with my whole plot. If there were two Fawkses in this time line, then Dumbledore could already have one and that's just messy. If it really bothers you, we can have a round of e-fisticuffs.**


	7. The Interview

**A/N: A huge thank you to Larxenne for editing. You are truly an amazing English nerd (and I say that with much reverence).**

**To answer a question by henriette, Harry looks like himself again, but is a little taller. Thanks for asking!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry apparated back to his flat silently with Fawkes gripping tightly to his shoulder with his talons. Harry's emotions were raging. His love for the bird was rivaled only by his admiration for and curiosity about him. When they arrived, Fawkes took a lap around the room, dropped something on Harry's head, and landed on the perch.

Harry stooped to pick up what Fawkes had dropped. It was a thin letter addressed with in black ink with loopy handwriting. Harry recognized the writing as Dumbledore's. He tore it open and slipped out the single piece of paper within it. He read it, taking joy in seeing the loopy handwriting for the first time in over twenty years of his memory.

_Dear Mr. Crockett,_

_Thank you for submitting your candidacy for the position of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. I am holding position interviews tomorrow in my office at Hogwarts. Would you be available at ten-o-clock? I have another appointment at 11, and couldn't possibly be persuaded to miss my lunch after that. I do hope this isn't too short of a notice. Also, please tell your phoenix friend that he is welcome to transport himself directly into my office to save the trip. I look forward to meeting the man who has won the loyalty of such a magnificent companion._

_Yours,_

_Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Harry quickly jot down his response ("_Professor Dumbledore, I will be at your office at ten tomorrow. Thank you. Best, Harry Crockett"_), feeling strange being quite so distant and formal with his old mentor.

"Fawkes," Harry said, "Dumbledore said—," but Fawkes had already taken off, scooped the letter out of Harry's hand, and vanished in a ball of flame.

"I guess he got the message…" muttered Harry. He stood around lamely for several minutes until he remembered the phoenix book in his bag. He summoned it, and settled down in an armchair to read.

The book covered everything from dietary maintenance to mythology. While reading through, Harry was especially interested to learn how especially rare phoenixes were. Though phoenixes cannot die involuntarily and may choose to live forever, the population rarely increases due to their independent nature. They rarely seek mates, and females usually choose to lay only one or two eggs in their lifetime, after which they usually choose to burn and not be reborn.

In the dietary section, Harry found out that phoenixes normally foraged for themselves and ate a number of different plants, but the smoking plant that Fawkes had eaten earlier that day was fairly rare and accelerated the phoenix's regenerative process. Harry wondered how Fawkes had found a sample so quickly.

Next, Harry read about phoenix's temperament. He read that (and Dumbledore's words came back to him) phoenixes are very loyal when they do decide to forgo their independence. They feel a strong empathetic bond to their human companions ("You have no idea," Harry told the book) or phoenix mates, to the point where if their companion should die, the phoenix may choose not to be reborn. Male phoenixes often burn with their female mates after the females lay their egg. If the male did not burn with the female, he would become exceptionally wrought with grief and would revive his mate with his own tears.

Harry read about all the theories behind phoenix teleportation, which were vague enough that Harry was sure they hadn't been proven. He briefly studied a map of the phoenix anatomy, and read with interest the various known uses for the feathers. The tail feathers were very powerful, and were used as wand cores (which Harry already knew), and specific very potent and powerful potions. The body feathers were occasionally sold at ridiculously high prices as quills.

Fawkes returned when Harry was still deeply immersed in the book.

"How was Dumbledore?" asked Harry. From within Fawkes, Harry could feel a powerful positive emotion. He assumed that it meant something along the lines of "he seemed very well."

Harry decided he needed to prepare for his interview. He knew that he would be the most qualified magically, and that at least one of his competition would be rejected on principle, but he worried that his history might not check out as well as the other competitors. He still hadn't interacted with anyone regularly enough to have a rehearsed story, and he needed to prepare. He had his basic story laid out; he had been homeschooled by overprotective parents, and had been working as a venture capitalist ever since. He was experienced in Defense against the Dark Arts because many people had become attracted to his wealth and suspicious of his activities. He had made sort of a hobby out of privately bringing down crime organizations. He hoped he wouldn't have to get that far, however. He rather hoped he'd just get the job on default without being asked too many questions.

He went to bed that night feeling prepared, and woke up well rested, albeit a little nervous. He ate breakfast in the morning in his apartment.

His apartment was very simple. His closet stood on a wall and was filled with his rather glorious robe collection, but the main decor was made up of stands for each of his soul objects. There was a hat rack for the hat, angled broom stand for the broomstick, a shelf for the records, and so on.

But now all of the stands were empty. He had packed all of his important possessions into his bag; he was very protective of them and took them everywhere. Fawkes had been out finding food and exploring the surrounding countryside. The only objects left in the room were the random and unaffected contents of the crystal: the box of sweets, the rest of the hats, and the rest of the records, the rubber ducks, the luck potion, and the bowling pins among other things.

Harry spent several minutes trying to select his robes for the day. His first thought was black, but that would be what Voldemort wore. He then thought of his deep red robes, thinking of Griffindor's colors, but then realized that the red was the same red of Voldemort's eyes. He then thought of green robes to match his own eyes, but he also didn't want to look too Slytherin. He eventually decided on modifying a pair of his black robes, adding sky blue to look both serious and upbeat. He snapped his fingers and his three-inch cuffs, collar and hems became blue.

Harry was nervous. He hadn't expected to be, but he was anxious to see the young versions of more people that he had known. He had woken up early out of nerves, and hadn't been able to get back to sleep. He could have calmed his nerves with his body aura, but he usually tried to be honest with what he was feeling, like normal people.

It was still only eight in the morning and Harry's interview with Dumbledore wasn't until ten-o-clock, but Harry was getting antsy. Knowing Fawkes would know where to find him, Harry apparated to Hogsmeade.

It was a Tuesday morning and the town showed signs of stirring. Various shops were opening, and a small trickle of early shoppers was making its way lazily through the streets. The day promised to be beautiful.

Most of the shops were the same. Wizards valued longevity, apparently, and resisted change. Harry walked passed Honeydukes, which was just opening, and got an idea. He went in, and, when he felt that no one was looking, he disappeared. Not thinking it necessary to pull out his invisibility cloak, he had cast a disillusionment charm on himself. He quietly paced behind the counter, and slipped down the stairs. He found the trapdoor to the secret passageway, and lowered himself down it. It was just like old times. Except older.

As he walked down the passageway, the memories of his time at school there came back to him. He stopped and took a moment to rifle around in his auror kit bag. At last he found what he was looking for: the Marauder's Map. He still had it with him. He always kept it with him as a reminder of the Marauders, all of whom were dead after the war. He thought it made a sad kind of sense that all four of them had died at the hand of Voldemort and his minions.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," said Harry, tapping the map with his wand (he decided he needed to start using his wand again if he were to spend time in the close proximity of so many witches and wizards. He cast a bright ball of blue light that illuminated the dark passageway, and conjured a chair in which to sit and study the map for a few minutes. It was still only about 8:45.

As he studied the map, his eyes alighted on familiar names of teachers already preparing for the start of term in a week. Each time, he felt little happy tugs at his heart. He saw Horace Slughorn in his chambers, and McGonagall at breakfast sitting next to Dumbledore. Hagrid was at his usual place in the table. All of the same ghosts were floating around; Harry saw the Fat Frier, the daughter of Ravenclaw, the Bloody Baron, Nearly Headless Nick, and Myrtle. It took Harry a longer time to recognize these, as their full names were fully spelled out, rather than their nicknames. Harry noted that the Whomping Willow was not yet on the map, nor was the passage leading from it to Hogsmeade.

Then Harry noticed Tom Marvolo Riddle enter through the front gates and head directly for the forbidden forest. Harry wondered vaguely what he was up to and hurried to the end of the passage. As he approached Hogwarts, he could feel its immense power touch his magical aura. The castle was awake.

Still disillusioned, Harry climbed out of the back of the hunched-over witch and hurried along the quiet corridor. He made it down to the entryway without meeting anyone, but then, as he dashed through the entrance hall, the double doors to the great hall opened and Albus Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid strode through them, conversing. Harry froze, eyeing Dumbledore and Hagrid. Hagrid looked about thirty years old. He did not have a full beard, however he did have quite a mane of hair. His face and hands were smoother and paler. Dumbledore was not what Harry had expected. He had seen memories of Dumbledore during this time of his life, but had clearly been more focused on other things at the time. If Harry didn't know better, he wouldn't have thought Dumbledore was a day over forty. His auburn hair was neat and his face spoke of power and wisdom but not of age. _No wonder he lived so long, _thought Harry (though this would be something he would come to wonder about again).

"Bu' Professor, you know tha' the Gian' Squid's 'armless. It hasn't never killed one of them Merfolk. Why are they so stuck on killin' 'im?" asked Hagrid.

"I do, indeed, know that the squid prefers to keep to herself and does not pester the Merpeople, however they have begun to see the conquest of the squid as a challenge, similar to how wizards have, at times, named dragon slayers heroes," replied Dumbledore.

"Tha's jus terrible!" boomed Hagrid,

"I agree with you entirely," said Dumbledore, calmly. "I will see if we can come to an agreement regarding the squid. I am impressed that you discovered this before it was too late. However did you manage?"

Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly. "Jus' doin' my job, sir. Saw she 'ad little cuts on 'er tentacles. Din' think she'd be doin' it ter 'erself."

Dumbledore and Hagrid were half way across the entry hall and about to pass Harry, when Dumbledore turned and looked straight at Harry. He quirked an eyebrow, and kept walking. Harry's heart jolted. Despite Hagrid's long stride, Dumbledore reached the door first and held it open for Hagrid. Hagrid walked through, but Dumbledore kept holding the door open.

If Harry had been visible, his face would have been red.

"Sir?" asked Hagrid, clearly wondering why Dumbledore was standing holding the door open.

"It just gets so stuffy in there when there aren't students here to open the windows and doors, like they do," said Dumbledore, sentimentally.

Harry took the opportunity, which he wasn't convinced was a coincidence, to dart through the door and run quickly across the lawn to the forest, leaving Dumbledore and Hagrid behind. Dumbledore closed the door shortly after Harry had made it through, and he and Hagrid strode off in the direction of the lake.

Harry decided not to take any more chances. He took the invisibility cloak out of his bag and draped it around himself as he pushed deeper into the forest looking for Voldemort.

When Harry found him, Voldemort was in the clearing where the blue crystal had landed. That brought up some questions for Harry, but they were answered quickly. Voldemort was talking to himself.

"That crystal was here! It must have been here! Someone must have taken it!"

Harry wondered how Riddle could possibly think someone had walked off with the mountain of crystal.

"Oh, they'll regret it. They probably don't know that I used its power! That I am the most powerful wizard alive! That I can't be killed! Haha! Ha! Haha!"

_Man, _thought Harry, _if Voldemort's followers had ever seen him while he's by himself, I don't think he'd ever have risen to power. Too bad Flootube hasn't been invented yet. _Harry also thought about what Voldemort was saying. Harry had always rebutted Voldemort's "I'm the most powerful wizard" claim with "Dumbledore's the most powerful wizard." Now, if Harry was honest with himself, he thought he, Harry, might be the most powerful wizard in the world. But Harry had been given his powers, whereas Dumbledore came upon them naturally. Dumbledore would also always be smarter than Harry, and while Harry's magical talent may have exceeded Dumbledore's, he wasn't sure that counted for anything. He decided that it was stupid to compare himself with Dumbledore anyway, and he'd already proven that he could beat Voldemort when he was seventeen.

Listening to Voldemort, however, Harry realized that the crystal must have been what had given Voldemort the power to hide his soul in objects. _If only he'd done it right, _thought Harry, grateful that the crystal had given him his soul objects rather than horcruxes.

He was done listening to Voldemort's lunatic ramblings. It was 9:30 and Harry wanted to get back to the castle unnoticed and in time for his interview. He stole out of the clearing, marched to the end of the forest, and crossed the lawn. He could see Dumbledore squatting at the edge of the lake thirty yards away, and when Harry increased his hearing, he could hear a familiar screeching dialect. Despite the grating tone of Merish, it was rather endearing coming of of Dumbledore's mouth, and Harry felt a swell of admiration.

It was then that the air next to Harry burst into flames, and Fawkes appeared, swooping around him singing. Dumbledore and Hagrid both turned around to look.

"Oh bloody hell, Fawkes," muttered Harry, and darted around the castle to where he knew he could not be seen from the lake (even though he was wearing his invisibility cloak).

As Harry ran though, he was sure he heard "Look, 'fesser! I'll be! Is that a phoenix? It is!"

It was then that Harry noticed that Fawkes had not followed him behind the building. Apparently, Fawkes had heard Hagrid's excited voice and had flown over to him and Dumbledore. Harry poked his head around the stone corner of the castle, and saw that Fawkes had perched on Hagrid's arm. Hagrid looked taken aback at having a phoenix perched on his arm. He held the arm out awkwardly, trying to keep it as still as possible. Harry saw Dumbledore reach out and pet Fawkes on the beak. From within his Fawkes aura, he felt a flash of deep emotion, which was quickly masked.

"'fessor!" said Hagrid again, who clearly wanted to know how and why he had a strange and rare magical bird perched on his arm.

"That, I believe, means that my 10:00 interview candidate is ready for me to see him." Harry noted that Dumbledore had said, "Ready for me to see him," rather than "Here."

Hagrid looked puzzled in the moment before Harry pulled his head back around the corner of the castle and dashed to the foot of the stairs in front the double front doors of the castle. He knew Dumbledore would be coming around the corner soon, and didn't need him to see the door open and close for an invisible person. He dissolved his disillusionment charm and hurriedly tucked his invisibility cloak into his bag.

He had his foot on the first stair when Dumbledore and a bewildered looking Hagrid rounded the corner.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Crockett," said Dumbledore warmly, striding over to Harry and shaking his hand firmly, "how very nice it is to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Professor Dumbledore," replied Harry.

Fawkes took this moment to hop from Hagrid's arm to Harry's shoulder.

"Oomph," said Harry, as he landed.

Hagrid looked between Fawkes and Harry.

"'E's with you?" asked Hagrid, awestruck.

"Yes," Harry replied simply. He was happy that he didn't have to correct Hagrid's wording.

"Mr. Crockett, this is Rubeus Hagrid, our gamekeeper, though I daresay he does much more than that. Hagrid, this is Harry Crockett, who will be interviewing for the position of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. And I," he said, Harry and Hagrid both looking at him curiously, "am Albus Dumbledore."

Harry grinned, and Dumbledore winked at him. Harry was pleased to see that Dumbledore's sense of humor had remained the same.

Fawkes, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, craned his long neck around until he was staring straight into Harry's face.

"Ah," said Harry, "this is Fawkes."

"'lo there Fawkes!" said Hagrid.

Fawkes whistled in response.

"And on that very lovely note," said Dumbledore, "Mr. Crockett and I have a meeting. Do excuse us, Rubeus."

"No prob'm, Professor. 'N thanks fer 'elpin' with the squid."

"You are very welcome, Rubeus. Have a nice morning."

Dumbledore and Harry started walking up the stairs, but Harry felt a prod to his aura from Fawkes. They conferred for a moment, and then Harry turned around and spoke up.

"Mr. Hagrid? I believe Fawkes may be hungry. Would you mind helping him find some food while I am meeting with Professor Dumbledore?"

Hagrid stuttered, "O'—o' course! I'd be—well, yeh! Come 'or to me 'ouse, Fawkes. We'll see what we ca' do!"

Harry suppressed a wince, imagining Hagrid feeding Fawkes stoat sandwiches and rock cakes.

Fawkes took off and followed Hagrid to his hut.

"That was very kind," said Dumbledore's voice from beside him, "Hagrid will be ecstatic to hold the company of a phoenix.

"I could tell they were getting along well," said Harry, "but I'm sure Fawkes will be back. I just hope that when he comes, he doesn't set your office on fire. He hasn't quite mastered the art of tact yet. He is quite young." Harry wasn't willing to let on quite how young Fawkes was. He was a little embarrassed that Fawkes had ended up running errands for him within twenty minutes of his birth.

"Oh, I do hope so," replied Dumbledore, "That is, I do hope he graces us with his presence. It would be an honor to have my office set fire upon by him, but I would settle for a visit," said Dumbledore.

They made their way up to the gargoyles outside of Dumbledore's office.

"Phoenix," Dumbledore told the gargoyle, and it leapt aside to reveal the moving staircase. "The password's new, you see. I had an extraordinary encounter with a phoenix just yesterday," he said brightly. Harry offhandedly wondered what Fawkes had done to make such an impression. He came to the conclusion that Fawkes could have sat still as stone and still made an impression.

Once they were in Dumbledore's office with the door closed, Dumbledore offered Harry a seat across the desk from his own.

"And now, Mr. Crockett," said Dumbledore solemnly, but with his eyes twinkling, "I must ask you why you were walking around the castle and grounds invisible."

Harry shifted, embarrassed. He decided to tell a partial truth.

"Ah," he said, "So you did know I was there. Thank you for holding the door." Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "As it happened, I arrived here early and my dark detectors had, well, detected something dark moving into your forest. I followed it invisibly, so as not to raise alarm, and came upon a curious young man talking to himself. Some of the things he said were rather alarming."

Dumbledore frowned.

"Could you describe this man for me?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes. He was wearing black robes, and was very pale. Oh, and his eyes were red," said Harry. Harry had not actually seen Voldemort's eyes in the woods, but he decided it was a detail that would leave no doubt in Dumbledore's mind which troubled youth was muttering to himself dangerously in the woods.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Thank you for your vigilance, Mr. Crockett. I shall look into this matter." He frowned, lost in thought for a moment, and then looked back up at Harry.

"I was impressed by the strength of your disillusionment charm," said Dumbledore.

"I'm impressed that you could see through it," said Harry honestly.

"And I admit," said Dumbledore, "I didn't notice you returning to the castle until Fawkes appeared. And even then, I could not see you. I assume you switched methods of concealment?"

"I did," said Harry, not yet willing to give up all of his secrets.

Dumbledore pretended not to notice Harry's secrecy, and pressed on. "And what other qualifications, besides magical concealment, would you say you possess?" he asked.

"Try me," said Harry, grinning.

"Patronus," said Dumbledore simply.

Harry accidentally conjured the patronus a split second before his wand was high enough. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. Harry was interested, but not surprised, to see that his patronus had changed from a stag to the shape of a phoenix.

Dumbledore nodded, satisfied. But he wasn't done.

"Name some dark creatures and the methods to achieve their defeat."

Harry discussed how to get rid of hinkypunks, boggarts, grindylows, and kappas.

"What about werewolves?" asked Dumbledore casually.

Harry smiled inwardly, knowing it was a trick question. "I believe a potion should be invented to allow a werewolf to retain his or her own mind during his transformation. I was looking into the theory myself, but, I admit, I am not potions master."

Dumbledore smiled.

"And," said Dumbledore, for the first time looking a little guilty, "I could interrogate you about your spellwork, but after seeing your magnificent patronus, I find myself oddly curious to see more for myself. Would you indulge me in a light duel?"

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter's going to be awesome, if I do say so myself. Please review! **


	8. The Good the Bad and the Ugly

**A/N: Thank you much to my lovely beta reader, Larxenne once again.**

**And now for some duel-action. Tell me how you like it…I was planning on putting some more eventually.**

**Author's note for purists at the end.**

* * *

_Last Chapter: "And," said Dumbledore, for the first time looking a little guilty, "I could interrogate you about your spellwork, but after seeing your magnificent patronus, I find myself oddly curious to see more for myself. Would you indulge me in a light duel?"_

Harry lifted an eyebrow, flattered and slightly amused. He was curious what would happen next.

"I, of course, will understand completely if you would rather not. I will not require it of you. However, I feel an interrogation would be dull in comparison."

"Where would you like to duel, Professor?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore beamed at him. "This space will do," replied Dumbledore, extracting his wand from one of his belled sleeves. He waved it, and the round room elongated, and all of the tables pushed themselves out of sight. Dumbledore's spell encased the portraits on the walls with a protective shell, transforming the room into an ideal space for dueling. Harry looked around in awe, slightly disoriented by the changes.

Dumbledore misread his face.

"Do not worry. I promise I will not maim you, and I do hope you will lend me the same consideration. I am an old man, after all," he said with a wink.

"My dear Professor," replied Harry, "I hope you will take it as a complement that you only look about five minutes older than I do," he said, and Dumbledore gave him a mysterious smile, "and as for the maiming, I don't think I could maim you," said Harry, truthfully. However, he meant it in the way that he would if he had said, "I could never kill a puppy." Harry felt he was physically and magically capable of maiming Dumbledore, but not emotionally capable.

"I do promise, though," said Harry.

"Lovely," said Dumbledore, "Shall we?"

Harry nodded.

"I would like to rule out the use of unforgivable curses and dark magic," said Dumbledore.

Harry nodded again.

"And for the first portion of the duel, I would like spells to be cast out loud," he continued.

Harry nodded.

"I may amend this at a later juncture."

Harry nodded.

"Oh, and to make this more interesting, I think we should refrain from using any shielding charms, shall we?"

"Right," said Harry slowly.

They both went to stand on the center of the long rug, which now bore the moon-shaped marks of an official dueling arena. They faced each other, and both bowed very low. They turned and paced to their ends of the rug, and turned to face each other. Dumbledore conjured a number three between them. It turned into a two. It turned into a one.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Harry shouted.

"_Accio Wand!"_said Dumbledore, flicking his wand, which twitched nearly out of his grasp despite the charm. Harry had never thought of using the summoning charm to counteract the disarming charm.

"_Rictusempra!"_said Dumbledore smiling. Harry jumped out of the way and the spell hit the wall and disappeared.

"Tickling spell, Professor?" Harry sent the jelly leg curse at Dumbledore.

"Oh I love that one!" said Dumbledore, not bothering to block it or move out of the way. He wobbled and collapsed, however he muttered the counter curse and shot a spell at Harry that Harry didn't hear. It hit Harry squarely in the chest, and Harry started shrinking. He shrunk and shrunk until he was a speck on the floor. He guessed that Dumbledore had used "_reducio!"_which was the reducing charm. Harry decided to use it to his advantage. Dumbledore would no longer be able to hear his tiny voice to block his spells. The only problem was his wand was still huge. He decided to use some wandless magic. Dumbledore hadn't said anything about wandless magic, only silent magic.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ squeaked the tiny Harry. The giant Dumbledore, who had now gotten back to his feet, did not hear him, and couldn't see him. Harry's wand rose in the air and pointed at Dumbledore. A look of shock momentarily flashed across Dumbledore's face.

Using his wand far above him, he charmed Dumbledore's hair purple, and turned his midnight robes into a flowery bathrobe.

"_Langlock!"_squeaked Harry, magically sealing Dumbledore's tongue to the roof of his mouth, and then made his wand point down at himself.

"_Engorgio!"_squeaked Harry, and he grew back up to slightly below Dumbledore's eye level.

Dumbledore raised his wand, and shot bubbles out of it. They formed themselves into the words "_As I have now become incapacitated, I believe it is time for wordless magic. Also, may I keep the robe?"_

Harry laughed at the bubbles, but took too much time laughing. Dumbledore had already sent a spell zooming at him. Harry conjured a squashy pillow to protect himself. The pillow began sprouting flowers. Harry banished the pillow towards Dumbledore, who caught it. Dumbledore realized his mistake just in time. He dropped the pillow before the flowers could creep up his arms. He changed the bubble words to say "_That's about enough fun and games," _and sent a hex at Harry, who, stupidly enough, was still reading the letters. The hex had been the full body bind. Harry's legs snapped together and his arms snapped to his sides and Harry keeled over. Harry's wand was pointing straight up uselessly. Then, Harry had an idea. He wordlessly sent billows of thick white fog out of his wand until it surrounded him. As soon as he was sure Dumbledore couldn't see him, he broke out of the full body bind wandlessly. He spread the fog through the whole room, and snuck up behind Dumbledore. He tapped Dumbledore on the shoulder with his wand, simultaneously conjuring ropes to bind him in place.

"Impressive," said Dumbledore, his arms and legs quite as trapped as Harry's had been in the full body bind. He hopped around to face Harry. "This has been delightful. However, I do have another appointment in about ten minutes and must rearrange the room so that he does not have any grounds to add to his preconceived notion that I am quite daft indeed."

Harry chuckled. He removed the ropes on Dumbledore, but before Dumbledore moved, Dumbledore's down pointing wand turned the floor under both of their feet to ice. Harry slipped and fell on his back rather ungracefully with an "oomph," and managed to drag Dumbledore down with him. Harry looked over at Dumbledore like a puppy that'd just been kicked.

Dumbledore cringed. "Oh dear. I apologize," said Dumbledore sincerely, "This wand is a rather sore loser."

Harry remembered that it was the elder wand, and understood Dumbledore's predicament exactly. With that wand, Dumbledore wasn't capable of losing a duel. Though, now that Harry thought about it, it was more like a tie.

"I forgive you," said Harry, "Mine has been known to do strange things as well."

Dumbledore banished the ice, stood, and reached his hand down to Harry. They grasped hands and Harry allowed himself be pulled up.

Fawkes took that exact moment to appear somewhere in the fog that Harry had conjured earlier. Harry and Dumbledore saw a patch of fog flash orange, and then they heard Fawkes crashing into things, whistling absurdly.

Harry vanished the fog, and immediately spotted Fawkes sitting atop the frame of a portrait very close to the ceiling. He looked down and saw a sizable fire burning the dueling rug. Harry groaned.

"I see you weren't joking," said Dumbledore, amused.

"I hoped I was," said Harry, putting out the fire and repairing the rug.

Dumbledore sighed and smiled, "Ah, children."

Harry rolled his eyes. With a proud croon, Fawkes swooped down and landed on Harry's arm, making him lose his balance and nearly fall over.

"And now, Mr. Crockett," said Dumbledore, as he removed and folded the flowery bathrobe, underneath which was a full set of midnight blue robes, "You'll have to excuse me. I really must rearrange my office. My other guest will be here momentarily. However, as a trip to Hogwarts would hardly be complete without both magic _and _a meal, as Fawkes has already discovered, and I must insist that you stay for lunch."

"I would be delighted," said Harry.

Dumbledore beamed. "Well, then, I trust you will be able to find something to do around the grounds until I am through. I assure you, my next meeting won't be nearly as enjoyable as this one has been, and as a consequence will not be as long. I will meet you in the great hall?"

"Yes, thank you. And thank you for the interview, sir," said Harry.

They shook hands. Fawkes leaned down Harry's arm to put his head where their hands met. Harry was puzzled. Harry and Dumbledore looked at each other.

"I guess Fawkes approves of our handshake, then," said Harry, "Oh goodie."

Fawkes fluttered to stand on Dumbledore's desk. He vanished in a burst of flame, and returned a moment later with his perch.

"Oh," said Harry, turning red, "it seems he's interested to see your meeting."

"And I would be a spoil sport indeed if I deterred him," said Dumbledore.

Harry suspected that the vessel for his soul was becoming a little too attached to Dumbledore. However, he couldn't bring himself to worry.

"Good luck with your exploration," said Dumbledore, and Harry exited the headmaster's office. Phoenixless. It made sense, thought Harry. He remembered back to when he had experienced Dumbledore's memory of the Riddle interview in the pensive; he remembered Fawkes there on his perch.

Harry rode the spiral staircase down, and passed between the gargoyles. He was walking down the corridor, when a door opened in front of him, and none other than Lord Voldemort stepped out. Voldemort closed the door, still facing the other direction and began muttering inaudibly to himself.

"So you're the eleven-o-clock?" asked Harry loudly.

"You!" snarled Tom, spinning around.

"Me!" said Harry, grinning excitedly.

"What are you doing here?" Tom snapped.

"Oh, I was just up getting myself the position of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher…now I think I'll go talk to myself in the woods a bit," replied Harry.

It took a moment for Voldemort to understand what Harry'd said. His eyes widened in rage. Before Voldemort could do anything, Harry strode over to where the door had vanished. It was the room of requirement. Clearly, Voldemort had been hiding the diadem.

"What are _you _doing here? Oh, curses on the _Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw_, the door's gone! Now I'll never know!" Harry said dramatically.

Voldemort blanched. Harry had caught him red handed and Voldemort had no response for the moment. He almost looked guilty.

However, he soon regained his composure, pulled out his wand, and held it over Harry's heart. He and Harry stood only a pace apart.

"_Have you been following me?" _he asked, anger and fear dripping from his voice.

"Let's just say that I know everything you have ever or will ever do, Mr. Riddle, but I have better things to do than follow you. You'll have people for that anyway, if you don't already."

"Oh really, Mr. _Crockett,"_he spat, "And did you know about this? _Avada—_"

"Oh, no. You don't want to do that," said Harry smoothly, "see, Dear Albus Dumbledore will know if you use any unforgivable curses inside Hogwarts, and he won't be very happy about you eliminating the competition, will he? I thought not. Anyway, I'll catch you later. I'll still be around after your meeting if you want to try to maim me more legally. Harry walked down the hall and was around the corner before Voldemort could think of a retort.

Voldemort was surprised to find snow on his shoulders, despite the summery air.

Harry went down stairs, taking shortcuts through tapestries and finding invisible staircases. He was going over what he remembered of Dumbledore's meeting with Voldemort, and first, he remembered that Dumbledore had said it was a snowy evening. Harry chuckled, getting an idea as he exited the building, and pulled out his broom.

He flew up above Dumbledore's tower and cast a darkening charm. Then he made it snow outside the windows. He knew from his memories that Dumbledore would play along with the new weather, and knew instinctively that it would infuriate Tom. He sat on the roof and enjoyed the summer day around his miniature storm. Then, he remembered that Fawkes would probably have vanished without a trace from Hagrid's hut. He flew down from the tower and landed outside Hagrid's hut. He knocked on the door, and Hagrid pulled it open.

"Mr. Crockett, sir! 'm so sorry! I los' yer bird! 'E was 'ere, 'n then he was gone! Burst into flame, 'e did!"

"Hagrid, calm down," said Harry, "He's with Dumbledore."

"Oh," said Hagrid.

"He's having a meeting."

"Oh," said Hagrid.

"So, I heard that you keep the largest heard of domestic thestrals in Britain," said Harry.

"Yes," said Hagrid, puffing out his chest, "We do indeed. Would you like to see 'em Mr. Crock'tt?"

"Please, call me Harry," said Harry, "and that would be great—as long as we don't go too far. I am having lunch with professor Dumbledore soon."

"Ah, well, they can come out ter us," said Hagrid, "I'll jus' need some meat. Hol' on."

"I can help," said Harry, "Where do you need it?"

"Oh, jus' over there." said Hagrid, pointing to the edge of the forest.

Harry waved his wand and made a bloody pile of meat appear where Hagrid had pointed. Hagrid and Harry strode over to the pile. Soon enough, a skeleton-like black head poked out of the forest, sniffing the air. The thestral came out into the open, its leathery skin glinting in the sunlight. Harry reached out to pet it

"You've seen someone die, then?" Hagrid asked confidently.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Who?" asked Hagrid, a little too enthusiastically.

"My mother," said Harry, "and a classmate. And my godfather, and a house-elf I was very close to, a traitor, a friend, a foe, a very brave man who, despite his hatred for me, sacrificed his life to protect me, and my mentor. Also my owl."

"Crieky, I'm sorry!" said Hagrid.

"Don't worry about it;" said Harry, "It was a long time ago."

"I saw me dad die," said Hagrid, unnecessarily trying to distract Harry from grief that he had already put behind him.

"Oh," said Harry, "I'm sorry."

"But then Dumbledore took me in. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Not a half bad wizard either," said Harry.

They both heard a bang as the front door of the castle slammed shut. They both turned to look. Voldemort was striding out of the castle towards them.

"CROCKETT!" he bellowed. Apparently he hadn't mastered his cool quite yet.

"Tha's Tom Riddle, Mr. Crockett. Careful," warned Hagrid.

Harry acknowledged Hagrid and turned to Voldemort. "Oh, good, you didn't forget," he said.

Dumbledore appeared at the top of the steps to the castle, Fawkes on his shoulder. Voldemort whipped out his wand.

"_Cruccio!" _he screeched.

"Come on, Tom. We talked about this," said Harry, walking towards Voldemort and sidestepping the curse. Voldemort kept sending curses at Harry, and each one missed. Harry was using a deflecting spell that made it look like Voldemort was simply aiming badly.

"Oh, come on. You're doing it all wrong," said Harry when he was three paces away. "You have to aim first," Harry pointed his wand directly at Voldemort's face, "and then fire. He shot a spell and it landed directly on Voldemort's nose which immediately started shrinking and flattening. The nostrils became slits.

"Hmm, that's a good look for you," chuckled Harry, "I mean; your friends'll probably think you're very pretty…if your preferred company is slithery blokes like you, anyway. This has been fun. Let's do it again some time, but right now I have a lunch date with Dumbledore. He's behind you, you know."

Tom spun around and spotted Dumbledore, leaning against a wall with his arms folded, eyes twinkling with an emotion Harry could not identify.

Harry coughed, and Tom realized that he had let Harry out of his sight. Voldemort straddled himself so that he could see both Harry and Dumbledore. He licked his lips, realizing that he couldn't win against both of these wizards, let alone one. He huffed, and swished his cloak around him dramatically, and stomped off towards the gate. His exit would have been impressive, had he not looked over his shoulder ever few seconds to make sure Harry hadn't raised his wand.

However, Harry had lowered his occlumency once more and reached out with his record-instinct aura. The moment after it touched Riddle, he spun around.

"How are you _doing _that?" he demanded.

"Doing what?" Harry asked.

Voldemort obviously didn't want to say "giving me a hard on from twenty feet away without using your wand," and so did not have a response.

He stuttered, "Being—so—so—_weak_!" and with that he fled the premises.

When he was gone, Hagrid started clapping. Harry turned his head to look at him.

"Wha'?" he asked in response to Harry's look, "Seems ter me, 'ol Tom had tha' commin. Nobody ner' bested him at nuthin."

"He never took a manners class, then," said Harry, "Thank you for showing me the thestrals, Hagrid. I hope we'll be able to talk more."

"Yer welcome, Harry. 'M sure yel get the job aft'r tha' show."

"Thank you Hagrid."

"Enjoy yer lunch," he said, and Harry made his way back up to the castle where Dumbledore was still leaning on the wall.

"And what was that, may I ask?"

"I was defending myself against dark arts," said Harry.

"Indeed, you were," said Dumbledore darkly, "But now let us go to lunch. We must also defend ourselves against hunger."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was really fun to write…I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Next Chapter: Harry and Dumbledore eat lunch. And some other stuff**

**A/N for purists: Ok, ok, so in preparation to write this chapter I went and found JKR's chapter on the memory that shows TMR's interview with AD. And it was in the middle of the winter. Oops. So…sorry that I fixed it rather sloppily. =D. I'm sure that nobody but me cares, but I'm super nitpicky about this stuff…and since I'm trying to make it realistic and not AU, I will pick nits!**

**Please review!**


	9. The Staff

**A/N: I did so much research for this chapter. It's staggering. I must have gone through half of the HPL and a quarter of the Prince for ref. I hope it pays off, purists!**

* * *

Harry and Dumbledore sat behind the staff table, with the heads of houses, who had all arrived early for school. Harry sat at Dumbledore's right, and they were eating lunch and talking.

"Mr. Crockett, I have decided that it would be pointless not to tell you this in person; I would love it if you would be our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the coming school year."

"Thank you, Professor! I will gladly accept your offer. And, please, sir, call me Harry," said Harry. It was off-putting that Dumbledore kept calling him Mr. Crockett. Also, he wasn't used to the name, so he worried that he wouldn't respond immediately.

"Of course, Harry. And in return, I hope you will call me Albus?"

_That's going to be fun to get used to_, Harry thought sarcastically.

"Thank you," he said.

"After lunch, since you are here, would you like to pick out your quarters and classroom?"

"Very much, Prof—Albus."

"As term starts in two days, most of the other professors will be arriving tomorrow to set up their classrooms, and the new teachers will claim their quarters."

"Are there any other new teachers?" asked Harry.

"There is a new professor of herbology. His name is Wister Bloom. And, of course, it will only be Minerva's second year," he gestured to his left, where a woman sat. She was in her early thirties, Harry guessed. Her hair was long and brown and cascaded down past her shoulders. She gave off none of the uptightness that Harry remembered. Harry thought, objectively, that she was very pretty.

"Minerva, this is Harry. He is going to be our new defense against the dark arts teacher. Minerva teaches transfiguration," he said, and just loud enough for McGonagall to hear, he whispered, " Be careful, Harry, she has claws."

"Only for you, Albus," said McGonagall, "Stop trying to set me up with the new teachers."

Dumbledore looked offended. "I had no intention of setting you up with Mr. Crockett, here," said Dumbledore. He paused. "Mr. Bloom, on the other hand—"

"Is as gay as you are, Albus, dear, but far too young for you."

"It's a good thing I hired him for his teaching and herbology skills rather than his looks, then," said Dumbledore pointedly.

Harry hadn't spoken though the entire exchange, as he had simply been trying to keep his jaw from dropping. He was stunned by the casualty of his former teachers' conversation. He wondered if they had been this flippant in his time and kept it away from the students, or if they'd matured with age. He suspected it was a combination of the two. He just couldn't imagine _his _Dumbledore and McGonagall discussing their love lives.

"So how about you, Crockett?" said McGonagall, pulling Harry from his image of the 120 year old Dumbledore and the 70 year old McGonagall discussing Snape's relationship potential.

"Wha?" asked Harry.

"Wife? Girlfriend? Charming yet illegitimate children?" asked Professor McGonagall impatiently.

"It's just Fawkes and me right now," said Harry. "My wife and I divorced a few years ago," said Harry, "And she and my three children moved away."

"Oh," said McGonagall solemnly, mirroring Hagrid's earlier response to the list of people Harry had seen die. _I really did have a crappy life, _thought Harry, suddenly liking the fifties a lot more.

"But, well, it was for the best," said Harry. "The kids love their mother, and I wasn't contributing to the family anymore. Now she's free, and I'm free, and the kids are still happy. This is where I want to be," he finished, unaware of how odd it might have been for his old teachers to be hearing the complete social life of a stranger.

"And we certainly want you here," said Dumbledore, seriously.

"Well, we know _you _want him here, Albus," said Minerva, smirking.

"I certainly do, Minerva," said Dumbledore, ignoring Minerva's intended meaning. "He won a duel with Tom on the lawn not twenty minutes ago."

"Tom Riddle?" asked Minerva, her smirk gone. "I've never seen anyone so much as leg-lock him."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "Harry dodged quite a few unforgivables, if I am not mistaken, and gave Tom something to remember him by. Harry, what _did _you do to his nose?" asked Dumbledore, his lips twitching up slightly.

"I just want people to be able to recognize him for the treacherous snake he is, Professor," said Harry innocently. "Unfortunately, I doubt it will work."

"He will be able to reverse it?" asked Minerva.

"No," said Harry, "I think he could if he wanted, but I'm pretty sure he won't. I just don't think altering his appearance will be enough to scare people off from him."

"However, it was highly amusing," said Dumbledore.

"What exactly did you do?" asked McGonagall, clearly a little jealous of Harry for receiving Dumbledore's praise.

"I changed his nose into a snake's," said Harry. "I met him before, and he was very rude. I decided it was about time to teach him a lesson before he gave me any more trouble.—I won't be teaching lessons that way at school."

"Tom has a talent for giving people trouble. I'm glad to see someone stand up to him. Anyway, Harry, if you have finished eating, I could show you around to the available staff quarters."

Harry put down his knife and fork. His plate wiped itself clean.

"I look forward to working with you, Minerva," said Harry.

"Just as long as Dumbledore doesn't make you think I'll be doing anything else with you," said Minerva.

"Of course," said Harry smiling, while Dumbledore scoffed.

"And you, Albus, don't scare him away! He seems nice."

"Minerva, I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about," said Dumbledore, "Come on, Harry, what'll it be?" he asked, striding quickly away from the staff table. Harry almost skipped to keep up with him. "The dungeons are very quiet—but, no, you don't seem like a dungeon sort of person. There's the basement—very close to the kitchens?"

"Do you have any tower rooms?" asked Harry. "Fawkes likes a view."

"Ah, yes. I am a fan of tower living, myself. We do have one unused tower, if you'll follow me." They walked past the house point hour glasses, which were now all in the "zero" points position, and climbed the marble staircase. Eventually, Harry recognized where they were going. They had been climbing the complicated and twisted rout towards the divination tower. He wasn't going to tell Dumbledore until he saw the room, but Harry thought there was no way he was going to be living in the future divination classroom. The curtains were oppressive, and the fireplace was stifling. The memories were atrocious.

They arrived under the trapdoor, and Dumbledore stopped and looked up.

"It doesn't have a proper staircase. There's only a ladder."

He waved his wand and the trap door flew open and the ladder unfolded. Dumbledore climbed up first. Harry didn't bother climbing the ladder. He levitated himself up through the trap door and alighted nimbly in the tower, smirking at Dumbledore, who was slightly out of breath.

"One point for Harry," Harry said.

"What does the winner get?" asked Dumbledore curiously.

"We'll see when we get there," said Harry, grinning. "Wanna keep track?"

"Yes, I would love to. However Minerva's such a spoil sport when it comes to competition, so we mustn't let her know. She'll want to join, but if she loses she'll have a fit."

"Does Minerva, you know, have a thing for you, Albus?"

"What kind of thing, Harry?"

"Oh, er," said Harry, uncomfortable with the lack of euphemisms in the fifties and wondering why he'd said anything in the first place, "Is she in love with you?"

"I dare not presume to know the workings of anyone's heart, including mine," said Dumbledore. _Classic Dumbledore, _thought Harry. "But," he continued after Harry thought he was done, "probably." Harry laughed. "However, either way she knows that I am unlikely to reciprocate any romantic affection or advance from her, as you heard her mention earlier." Harry nodded. Until Minerva had mentioned it, however, Harry had forgotten that Dumbledore was rumored to be gay. "I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

"Of course not," said Harry. Then Harry voiced to his old mentor what only Luna had ever been able to articulate out loud. "I divorced my wife for the same reason," he said quietly. Harry still hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that to Dumbledore he was still a stranger, and he'd probably been acting a little too familiar.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, and was horrified when he saw his expression, which was something akin to fear. Harry cringed, but then Dumbledore spoke, slightly frantic.

"Oh dear! Just don't tell Minerva, or she'll invent all sorts of things in her head… _I'll_ never hear the end of it." Harry relaxed. He was so relieved that the first person he'd ever come out to had seen it as a non-issue. Harry laughed in relief.

"Albus! Keep your mitts off that new boy! He's too young for you!" said Harry in a high posh accent. It was a remarkably good imitation of Minerva.

"I do feel sorry for Mr. Bloom. He will have no idea what that is all about," said Dumbledore smiling sheepishly.

Harry and Dumbledore laughed. Harry let go of the tension that had built up in his body a moment earlier.

"So what do you think of the room, Harry?" asked Dumbledore. His tone was more informal and friendly than it had been not five minutes before. Harry felt like they had bonded over their conversation.

Harry actually looked around at the room for the first time. It wasn't anything like he'd remembered. There were no musty curtains blocking out all the light. There were no armchairs or poufs (except for Harry and Dumbledore), and no teacups. There were many more windows than Harry remembered; Harry suspected that it was Professor Trelawney who had covered most of them up with curtains. Similarly, the roof sloped up to a point, while Harry remembered there being oppressive curtains hanging from the ceiling. The room felt airy, and the fireplace was empty. The room itself was round. The trapdoor lay at the very center. Harry imagined setting it up just like his flat in London with all of his soul object shelves around the outside.

"It's perfect," he told Dumbledore. "When can I move in?"

"As soon as you are able," said Dumbledore.

"Excellent," said Harry. In his exuberation at finding such an ideal place to live, he forgot himself slightly. He began filling the room with the objects from his flat, transporting them directly. Around the room appeared the six shelves for his soul objects, and a shelf with the random objects that had come in the crystal with him. Last, he conjured a large wardrobe and put all of his robes inside it.

"There, done," said Harry.

"Not quite," said Dumbledore, hiding any wonder and surprise he may have had. He conjured a glorious king sized four poster bed topped with a canopy of dark purple. The pillows and comforter were lilac colored silk. "I do hope you like purple." Dumbledore looked around the room dreamily and said, "One point for Albus, I believe."

"Indeed. We need a score board."

"How about we use these?" Dumbledore asked, walking over to the box of sweets. Harry inspected the sweets. He looked at them closely for the first time in the year he'd carried them. They were lemon drops. He laughed out loud. Dumbledore looked at him curiously.

"I think you'll like them too much and eat them until you have no points left," said Harry still laughing, "and then I will win."

"Then I'll just have to sneak in here and eat all of your points," he said, popping one into his mouth and considering it for a moment. His expression changed. "Harry," he said seriously, shaking his head, "This is divine. We mustn't use them for points. I fear I will eat all my points and lose."

"That is wise, Albus." Harry conjured a scoreboard. On it were the names "Crockett" and "Dumbledore" and under each was a large "1." "I will hang it in my office?" asked Harry.

"That's probably best," said Dumbledore, "Some of my important visitors may not understand our competition. And speaking of your office, shall we go look for one for you?"

"Absolutely," said Harry.

They both dropped nimbly out of the trap door without aid of the ladder, and landed safely with the aid of magic. Harry banished the ladder and shut the trapdoor. He didn't bother adding any wards. Hogwarts was the safest place in the world, and Harry thought a locked trap door with no ladder would deter any unwanted visitors for the moment.

"Do you have any idea where you would like your office, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well," said Harry, trying not to give away his knowledge of the castle, "I would like to have it attached to my classroom, if that is possible."

"There is only one classroom like that, and none of the other teachers have claimed it. Would you like to take a look?"

"Certainly," said Harry.

They descended many staircases, and eventually came to the second floor. They stopped outside the office that Harry knew would, in his day, belong to a slew of teachers, all with very different decorating preferences. Dumbledore opened the door.

"After you, Harry," he said. Harry was reminded fleetingly of their excursions into the pensive.

The room was bare. Only a plain looking desk and a rectangular wardrobe occupied it. On the other end of the room was a door that Harry knew led onto a staircase that descended into the first floor classroom. He crossed the room and opened the door. He stepped onto the balcony over the classroom, and looked out, trying to imagine how he would decorate it.

"Will this be suitable?" asked Dumbledore.

"Exactly what I imagined," said Harry truthfully. "I'm only trying to decide what to fill it with. It seems so plain." They stepped back into Harry's new office.

"I would offer advice, but as I have already imposed my style on your bedchamber, I shall refrain," said Dumbledore.

"No, er," said Harry, remembering the gigantic purple bed and hesitating just long enough to be doubted, "It's lovely, really."

Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing smile. Harry wasn't sure what it was that Dumbledore knew, but he knew something. Harry was still trying to work it out when Dumbledore spoke.

"And now, Harry, I have taken up too much of your time. I will allow you to become acclimated to your new space on your own. You are welcome to stay here tonight, if that is your wish, as it seems that you have already transported many of your belongings here. Dinner is served at seven. I will be eating in the Great Hall at that time, and I would be delighted to continue our conversation, if you choose to join me."

"Thank you," said Harry, "I'll be there."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

The air between their faces burst into flame, and when it cleared, Fawkes was standing on Dumbledore's hand which was on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt the familiar swell of confusing emotion radiating from Fawkes, through Dumbledore's hand, and into himself. Blue eyes met green for an instant, and Dumbledore's lips parted questioningly.

And then the moment passed, and Harry wasn't sure what had happened or even if it had happened at all. Dumbledore pulled his hand out from under Fawkes, said goodbye to Harry, and swept out of the office.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, so this chapter was a little shorter. It was really a transitional chapter. The next one might be similar to this, but the one after that is going to be pure awesome.**

**TTFN.**

**Tip yo' waitress.**


	10. Welcome to the Fifties

**A/N: My beta reader was temporarily MIA and so this is slightly less grammar-policed. I hope you enjoy it, anyway. R&R!**

* * *

Harry looked around his new office, unsure of what to do with himself. Fawkes fluttered down to the desk, and twittered unhelpfully. Harry decided to fix the furniture first. He transfigured the desk into a larger one made of dark polished wood. It had useful shelves that rose several feet above its surface. Then, he looked at the wardrobe. He spelled its doors open. Floating within it was a dementor, tall and hooded.

"Boggart!" yelped Harry, and slammed the doors shut. The wardrobe rattled. He chuckled and sighed at his reaction. He was surprised that he hadn't sensed the boggart's presence. He must have been too preoccupied with his conversation with Dumbledore. _Well_, he thought, _the boggart can be one of my lessons._

Harry conjured a comfortable swivel armchair. He was pretty sure that armchairs this comfortable hadn't been invented yet, but he didn't think anyone was going to call him on it. He sat down in the chair behind his desk. He decided that now that he had won his job, he had to do it. He began drawing up lesson plans starting with first year, and ending with seventh. He realized that he would probably have to amend them as he went depending on what the students had already learned. Having been a fantastic Defense against the Dark Arts student, a teacher in his fifth year, and a professional after his school years, he had a very detailed base of knowledge and knew pretty well how to divide the work between the classes.

Harry immersed himself in the task. He loved remembering all of his favorite spells that had come in handy so many times. Soon, he'd filled pages for each of the years, with animals to learn about, spells to practice, and facts to know. He looked at his watch. It was nearing 5:00. He was shocked at how quickly the time had passed.

He knew that dinner was served at 7, so he still had two hours. He decided to arrange his classroom more thoroughly. He went out of his second office door onto the balcony over the classroom and surveyed it closely. He decided that since he was going to teach his lessons practically, he needed to fix the space. He started by vanishing all of the desks and putting large pillows around the room instead. Next, he covered the wall without windows with mirrors, and protected them so that stray spells would not shatter them. These would help the class see everyone's progress, and keep the students looking around and on their toes.

He descended the stairs, and looked around the room. In between each of the mirrors, he conjured a shelf. On each of the shelves, he displayed a dark detector. He spent a few minutes adding protective spells to them so that they would not be broken by spells. He made sure to do the same to the windows. He cast a spell on the chandelier so that it would not fall or break, and he fireproofed both doors and the cushions. As an afterthought, he cast a cushioning charm on the ground and walls, so that if anyone were to fall or be thrown against a wall, they would be able to get back up unharmed.

Harry nodded, satisfied. All he had to do was think of something interesting to put in his office.

Then he remembered the scoreboard with Dumbledore. He magically jumped onto the balcony and went back into his office. He hung the scoreboard on the wall next to his desk. Thinking of Dumbledore, he cleared a space on his paper-covered desk, and conjured a bowl there. He filled the bowl with some of the lemon drops from his stash upstairs, and cast a spell on the bowl to multiply the lemon drops so that they never ran out.

He cast spells on both doors to make sure that no students could break into his office, and more spells that would let him know if someone tried. He left the office accessible to faculty, but made spells to alert him upon the entry of anyone but him. He could have cast spells to tell him exactly who was entering his office, but he had the Marauder's Map to tell him that. _It wouldn't do to get too lazy, now, would it, _he thought as he conjured a mailbox for the outside of his door, opened the door with magic, and attached the mailbox with magic. He also added a plaque to the outside of the door that read:

_Professor Harry Crockett_

_Defense against the Dark Arts_

He looked around the office to see if he'd forgotten anything obvious. Like the bed. He didn't think of anything, but he was sure he would add things later. He still had an hour until dinner, so he decided to take a walk around the grounds. He was a little restless after spending several hours drafting lesson plans.

Harry walked down the lawn, and found himself treading the familiar rout to the Quidditch pitch. When he got there, he felt all the memories come back of the plays he'd made…the games he'd won. He craved the wind in his face and the ground far beneath him, so he took out his broomstick from his bag, enlarged it, and jumped into the air, making sure to use occulemency against his ego trapped within the broom.

He zoomed around the stadium, faster and faster. He sped faster than any broom ever had in that time and he left his day behind him. But as he flew, his heart began to ache. And as he left his day behind, he traveled closer to what he had been avoiding for a year. He had pushed it down with a new name. He had avoided it by avoiding witches and wizards. He had even avoided it with using occlumency on himself to save himself from thinking about it. But now, it crashed over him like a tidal wave.

He, Harry James Potter, the boy who lived, the hero of the 21st century wizarding world, had been sent back over seventy years in time. He had been ripped from his life and shoved unceremoniously into the past. He had been torn from his friends and thrown in with people from another generation entirely.

He circled lower and lower, gasping at the enormity of it all until he collapsed onto the grass on all fours. Luna's face, Neville's face, Ron's face, Hermione's face, his children's faces flashed in front of his eyes. He wouldn't see any of them again until he was an old man, if at all. He looked at the grass beneath him, and it looked back at him, innocent and green.

Harry couldn't help but think of all the things he'd never get to do because he was in the past…well, there was his job. He would never go back to his auror's job. His auror's job, where each accomplishment was unimpressive compared to his defeat of the dark lord.

He thought of his friends. He'd never see his friends again. He would miss his real friends, though they seldom spoke except to reminisce about the defeat of the dark lord and the DA. And then there were the people who he had met after the war, who all wanted a piece of his purity and glory.

And he would never again be called "Harry Potter." He would never again be recognized in the streets and mobbed. He would never have to sign autographs for a greatness he had been destined to do since he was born. He wouldn't have broomstick models made to look like his face, or close-ups of his scar in the Prophet.

He realized he was sobbing into the grass. His forehead was pressed into the ground, and his arms were around his middle, the only thing keeping him together. He looked up at the castle in front of him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

He was free.

Like he had never been in his life, he was free.

He wasn't expected to be anything or anyone anymore. He didn't have to be an auror. He didn't have to be a Potter. He didn't have to be a saint. He didn't have to pat the ministry on the shoulder, or send opinions to the Prophet. He didn't have to be smarter than Ron but more social than Hermione. He didn't have to be married to Ginny, or any woman. He didn't even have to be straight! He was no longer Harry Potter, the Boy Who Wasn't Allowed to Change.

He was Harry Crockett, Defense against the Dark Arts teacher in 1957. He was a broomstick, a bowling ball, a wand, a hat, a record, a phoenix and a man. He was standing up and smiling, wiping away his tears. He was going to be the best damn Defense against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts had ever and would ever have. He was going to ask Dumbledore all the questions he had always wanted to and more. He was going to make a home for himself without all of the bullshit coddling. He was going to be the child he never got to be at Hogwarts or on Privet Drive. He was going to be the adult no one ever knew was behind the Boy Who Lived.

He was going to be late to dinner.

He made sure he was clean, and headed back to the castle, a new skip in his step.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so not much happened, but next chapter there's dinner and faculty orientation and maybe even students…In the mean time, review! Yay!**

**Ttfn,**

**-Moonlight**


	11. Duties and Dissaparation

**A/N: Beta Reader got a date, so I didn't want to bug her into reading this =D (you go, girl) so it could be a little scary.**

**Note for purists at the bottom.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Somebody, presumably Dumbledore, had arranged a smaller table around which the accumulated staff sat. Dumbledore sat between Hagrid and Minerva. Also at the table was Professor Slughorn ("Call me Horace, M'boy!") who was head of Slytherin House, and next to him was Professor Filius Flitwick who was head of Ravenclaw house. To Harry's right was the very attractive Wister Bloom, the new professor of herbology and head of Hufflepuff house. Also present was Professor Binns (it took Harry until half way through dessert to notice he was still alive, and even then it was hard to tell), the caretaker named Ogg, and Hagrid.

Harry was listening to Wister talk animatedly about the adrenaline inducing venomous tentactula encounter he'd had over the summer. Harry was listening, but he was paying more attention to Dumbledore, who kept watching Harry over his half moon spectacles and looking away quickly to avoid eye contact. Harry hoped that Fawkes's strange behavior and his aura's blast of emotion hadn't ruined Harry and Dumbledore's budding friendship. Harry didn't have any other friends yet, after all.

However, Wister clearly wanted to be his friend, or possibly more. Wister was a little shorter than Harry and had golden skin. He had dirty blond hair that framed his eager face, and a sweet smile which Harry earned several times throughout the evening. He was modest and very enthusiastic about his work. He was the youngest professor; he was a year or two younger than Minerva. Harry thought that between the Wister and Minerva, they'd have the whole student population drooling (ironically, Wister was having the same thoughts about Harry and Minerva). Harry found himself caught up in Wister's charm, but was inexplicably uncomfortable with reciprocating his flirtation.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted.

"—You thought _I _was going to referee Quidditch games and—and teach the first years how to fly? Are you _mad _Albus?" Minerva asked incredulously, her voice carrying around the table.

"A little mad, yes Minerva, but do you see an alternative?"

"As a matter of fact, I saw one out my window just this afternoon." She raised her voice even higher, unnecessarily. "Crockett! Harry, you fly incredibly well."

"Thank you," said Harry.

"Did you know that the last Defense against the Dark Arts teacher also taught flight last year? It's a bit of a tradition."

"Minerva!" said Albus, chastising her manipulations.

"Yeah, all right, I'll teach them," said Harry quickly, before she got going. He was not at all feeling manipulated. He loved flying and was pleased to be able to pass on his expertise.

"Lovely!" exclaimed Minerva, at the same time as Dumbledore said "Really, Harry, do not feel obligated. It wasn't part of your job description."

"And was it part of _my _job description, Albus?"

"It was, actually, Minerva. You were to take on _all _of my duties when you arrived last year. However, you somehow managed to slink out of that particular duty, as well as taking on some others. You now seem to have taken on the role of my keeper, for example," said Dumbledore smiling serenely.

Minerva turned red and did not rebut.

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time during the meal. Harry took it as a sign that Dumbledore was ready to interact with him again and was glad.

"So," said Wister Bloom as he licked the last drips of melted vanilla ice cream off his spoon, "you play Quidditch? I play keeper. Are you a chaser?—we could play some time. Do some shooting practice, you know?"

"I play seeker," said Harry, standing up. He saw the put out expression on Wister's face and amended, "but maybe we could sometime."

Wister beamed like a school boy.

"I'm off to bed," said Harry. "I've still got to fix up my dorm a bit. Goodnight, all. It's been great see—meeting you."

"Goodnight, Crockett," said Minerva.

"'Gnight, Harry!" waved Hagrid.

Dumbledore nodded at him.

Harry left the great hall and started up the marble staircase. Half way up, he decided that it was too far to walk all the way to his tower, and he closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them, he was in the middle of the tower, the stands for his objects and his bed all around him. Fawkes's perch, too, was back in its place and Fawkes gripped it, surveying Harry.

Outside it was night, but the full moon illuminated the grounds. Harry didn't light the room, but instead made his eyes adjust to the dark. He walked around the room and placed each of his objects on its stand, but decided that the room didn't look very natural.

He conjured a record player and placed the record in it instead of leaving it sitting on its shelf by itself. He stored the other muggle records on the shelf under the player. The hat was sitting on a glass head, but Harry transfigured the glass head into a many-pegged hat stand, and put the rest of the hats onto it. By the bowling ball, he put the bowling pins.

Sorting through his other miscellaneous and non-possessed objects, he decided that the rubber ducks should live by the bath. Off to one side of the tower was a door, and behind it was a bathroom. The bathroom was luxurious and circular like its adjoining room. There was a large tub, and beside it, a separate shower. Above the sink was a large mirror. Harry placed the ducks by the bath, went back into his bedroom, and continued looking through the objects. He conjured a table, and set the ornate wizards chess set upon it and he conjured a cabinet and stored the Pensive within it. He decided to add the Felix to his auror's potion kit.

He looked around the room and thought about adding drapes to the windows, but he immediately imagined it stifling hot and stuffy as Trelawney had decorated it. He would darken the windows with magic if he needed privacy or darkness.

Just then, he felt a presence under the trapdoor. Before the visitor could knock or call out, Harry dashed over to the trapdoor and opened it.

"One point Harry," said Harry.

Beneath it, looking mildly bewildered stood Dumbledore. He gazed up at Harry and neither of them spoke for a moment. Dumbledore simply stared up at Harry, searching his face. Harry stared back into the face of his mentor.

Dumbledore broke the silence. "May I come up?"

"Yeah," said Harry, and he backed away from the trapdoor.

Dumbledore rose through it slowly, as if standing on an elevator, and stepped onto to the solid stone floor of the tower as soon as his feet were level with it. He closed the trapdoor behind him and looked through the moonlit room.

"I trust I did not wake you?"

"No," said Harry, "I simply neglected to light the room."

Dumbledore didn't respond. Instead he stepped closer to Harry.

"Mr. Crockett—Harry. You may or may not know, but as Headmaster of this school, the castle endows me with certain knowledge of the goings-on here. It very recently told me when someone apparated within the walls this evening, when such an occurrence should not be possible. I wonder if you could alleviate my worries about the possibility of a powerful dark witch or wizard roaming our halls."

Harry shifted guiltily. He would surely pay for his laziness. He had known the moment he set foot in—or under, as it happened to be— the castle that it was deeply magical and had an almost sentient consciousness, but he hadn't realized that Dumbledore had such a connection with it.

"That was me, Headmaster," said Harry, knowing that Dumbledore already knew it was him and was testing his honesty. "I am sorry if I alarmed you."

Harry could tell only by flicking out one of his auras that Dumbledore was painfully curious, but he showed no signs of it on his face. Dumbledore only nodded and said "I am impressed. You must be a powerful wizard indeed."

Harry was surprised at the compliment and equally surprised that Dumbledore didn't tell him off or warn him not to do it again.

"Thank you, Albus," was all he could think to say.

"I see that you've made some changes to your quarters? Ah, chess. A magnificent game. You play often?"

"No," said Harry, trying to keep up. "I only just inherited the set from an aunt who passed away. I haven't played in years," he lied.

"I see," said Albus. "May I have another lemon drop?"

"Of course. I don't eat them," he said before he could stop himself.

Dumbledore looked at him, puzzled. If Dumbledore were any other man, Harry would have been sure he was asking himself "_why does this man have an enormous box of sweets that he does not eat?" _But Harry knew that Albus Dumbledore could just as likely be finishing a game of solitaire in his head.

Dumbledore chose a lemon drop from the box and stuck it in his mouth, sucking pensively.

"What have you planned for your first lessons," Dumbledore asked conversationally around the lemon drop.

Harry, taken off guard, responded, "Demonstrations, and a simple practical lesson"

"Oh," said Dumbledore brightly. "What will you demonstrate?"

"I hoped to duel," said Harry.

"Who were you going to duel?" asked Dumbledore.

"Will you be my aid, Albus?" he asked, before he knew what he was saying. Originally, he'd planned to demonstrate on a dummy.

Dumbledore smiled. "Why, of course, Harry. But, could we, perhaps do one demonstration for all of the students rather than for each class? For the first two weeks of school I'm afraid I need almost all of my time to answer owls from parents."

"Of course," said Harry. "Thank you. Let me know if you need any favors of me."

"I will keep that in mind," said Dumbledore, "and now I will leave you to your rest. Thank you for permitting my intrusion."

"You aren't intruding, Albus. Goodnight," said Harry as Dumbledore drifted down through the trapdoor.

"Goodnight," said Dumbledore, and then the trapdoor shut softly.

Harry donned his pajamas and climbed into bed. He looked out his window across the night. The lights in the headmaster's tower blinked on, and Harry thought he saw a purple-clad figure moving through the room. He turned on his side and soon fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N for Purists: Ok, so Hagrid wasn't the groundskeeper at this point. He had been "taken in by Dumbledore" but wasn't groundskeeper. I assume that meant he was just gamekeeper, but there was another guy who was groundskeeper. His name was…Pringle. I'm just not going to bother mentioning him because FAH, I don't want to. And I want Hagrid to live in Hagrid's hut rather than some random dude living there.**

**ALSO. Sorry about the OC Wister Bloom. Btw, Wister comes from Wisteria which is a flower. I just couldn't find anyone who could possibly have been in that position at that time…I didn't think Sprout was that old.**

**I'm going to try to keep the students non-OC's but I might have to add some.**

**Review!**


	12. When Dreaming Ends

**A/N: Yeaaah! A real chapter! And it's been beta read! W00t! Please review!**

* * *

_Harry was at the top of the astronomy tower, frozen and invisible. Before him, Draco was pointing his wand at Dumbledore, failing to find the nerve to kill. Dumbledore was looking around, trying to get his bearings. And he was slipping down the wall. Harry heard a commotion from behind the door, and a horde of death eaters burst through it. Behind them, came Voldemort. Voldemort sneered and pointed his wand at Dumbledore._

"_Harry, please" said Dumbledore looking over at Harry, and a flash of green light erupted from Voldemort's wand._

_The dream changed. It became clearer and the emotions were stronger, and not his own. Harry was in someone's front yard. He had never been there before and knew his mind hadn't invented it. He recognized the four people around him. Two were blue eyed, auburn haired teens who he had seen in an old photograph. One was a little girl, who he had seen in a painting. One was a sandy haired boy…the thief. The three men were yelling at one another, and the girl was crying. Spells started flying though the air. A few seconds later the girl fell to the ground._

"_Ariana! Ariana, no!" cried one of the men with blue eyes. He turned to Harry and embraced him, crying on his shoulder._

_The surroundings vanished, and Dumbledore looked up from Harry's shoulder. His gaze was real and sentient. It wasn't a figment of Harry's subconscious, nor, Harry knew, was the rest of the dream._

"_Why are you here?"_

* * *

Harry woke with a start, sitting straight up in his bed, looking through his window to the tower across the way. He realized that his auras were stretched out in all directions, exposed, caressing his surroundings. He reeled them in and threw up some occlumency barriers.

He glanced at his watch which read seven-thirty. He dressed in his red silk robes, and headed down for breakfast. He left all of his objects in his tower, feeling that they were safe there, but he added an extra protection just in case. He took only his wand.

He resisted his urge to pop straight down to the great hall, and walked down the long way.

The day went by quickly. He was introduced to the other teachers who arrived, including the care of magical creatures' teacher Professor Kettleburn. Dumbledore ran the entire staff through safety procedures and rules. Harry was pleased to note that "transfiguration is not to be used as a punishment" was not yet one of the rules. Harry sat through an unavoidable explanation of all of the processes with which he was already familiar, like the house point system and the Quidditch Cup and the scheduling and Hogsmeade visits.

Harry sifted through the school's broom closet and used some of his magic to make the brooms safer and more reliable. After he was satisfied with the brooms, he went to his office and continued developing his lesson plans. He had barely any time to have any conversations because the day was spent in frenzied preparation.

Evening fell, and all of the staff sat down for dinner together.

"Today," said Dumbledore, "you have all worked hard to prepare for the arrival of the students. Believe it or not, despite how hard you have all worked, today will feel like a vacation compared with what is to come. Remember that we are all feeling the same strain, and therefore there will always be someone with whom to share a piece of your mind." He glanced at Harry. Harry hoped that Dumbledore was just being friendly, instead of hinting that he knew Harry had been in his dream.

"To a prosperous year!" said Dumbledore raising his glass.

"A prosperous year!" echoed everyone enthusiastically, and dinner began.

Being their last night of freedom, Dumbledore had brought in several bottles of mead and firewiskey and the faculty was making quick work of them. Harry was in an exceptionally upbeat mood, aided by the alcohol in his system. By the end of the main course of the meal, most of the staff was thoroughly tipsy, and by dessert, they were quite sloshed indeed. Some of the older, more solemn professors had already gone to bed, and only Harry, Wister, Slughorn, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Minerva, and Hagrid remained. Hagrid and Flitwick were singing enthusiastically, Flitwick's high voice contrasting with Hagrid's booming bass. McGonagall was red in the face talking to Slughorn, who was flirting shamelessly. Wister was whispering very inappropriate ideas into the ear of Harry, who was glancing around the table hoping no one noticed his blush.

Dumbledore stood up, at last, with surprising grace for someone who had consumed so much alcohol.

"And now," he said, a little too loudly, "It is time for bed. Have dreams of pleasant memories, and pleasant things to come," he frowned, and Harry hoped he hadn't been remembering his joint dream with Harry from the previous night. "I will see you all in the morning. As you know, students will arrive at six tomorrow evening."

Chairs scraped back, and teachers helped each other up. At the entrance hall, they parted ways. Slughorn headed off towards the dungeon. Hagrid went out the front doors. Wister headed off to his basement dorm, looking back wistfully at Harry. Harry took a step up the stairs, and slipped. Strong arms with slender hands caught him from behind and lifted him back to his feet.

"Catching drunken employee: one point," rumbled the voice behind him. "I'll help you to your tower, Harry," said Dumbledore, "it's on the way to mine, you know."

"I did know," said Harry thickly, "I can see your house out my window." He felt Dumbledore nod behind him.

In a burst of flame that nearly singed Harry's face, Fawkes appeared.

"Yer a little late, Fawkes. I'm fine," said Harry, slurring his words. "You can go back to bed, I'll be up in a seggond." Fawkes chirped, amused, and vanished.

"Up the stairs, then," said Dumbledore, concentrating.

"Mmph," said Harry, his head spinning. He didn't want to walk all the way up to the tower. He turned around, and put his arms around Dumbledore, drawing them closer. He held tightly, closed his eyes, and the two of them reappeared in Harry's tower. Harry's arms lingered around Dumbledore for a moment, and then Harry pulled away.

"Thanks, 'fessor. 'Gnight," mumbled Harry, wordlessly and wandlessly vanishing all of his clothing except for his trousers.

Dumbledore stood in the same spot, looking at Harry. Harry dimly made sure all of the protections on his auras were still in place.

"I can't get out," said Dumbledore.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Your protection spells, Harry."

"Oh," said Harry, and he felt around for his protections. He was too wasted to figure out how to lift them, however. "Can I apparate you?"

"Mmhmm," rumbled Dumbledore.

Harry padded over to him on bare feet. He wrapped his arms around Dumbledore like he had before, pressing his bare torso against Dumbledore's clothed one. "Ready?" he asked. Without hesitation, Dumbledore put his hands around Harry's waist and nodded over Harry's muscled shoulder. Harry closed his eyes, and they reappeared in Dumbledore's chambers.

Harry dimly registered the purple and silver decor. "We have the same bed," said Harry, forgetting to untangle himself from Dumbledore.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore.

"Well, goodnight, then," said Harry, removing his arms from around Dumbledore. Dumbledore let his hands drop from Harry's sides.

"Thank you, Harry. Goodnight."

Harry closed his eyes, and as he was vanishing, he thought he heard Dumbledore say, "And please have pleasant dreams tonight."

* * *

_Everything around Harry was drunken and blurred. He and the other teachers were dancing feverishly to upbeat music_. _Hagrid twirled Harry and he spun across the room only to be caught by Wister who ran his hands up and down Harry's sides seductively._

"_May I cut in?" asked a deep voice._

_Wister glared but faded into the background. Dumbledore stepped into Harry's plane of view. Harry's hand met his, and the music changed to a slower waltz._

"_Why am I in your dream, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, leading Harry to step in time with the music._

"_This is my dream, then?" asked Harry._

"_I find mine are usually sharper, even when I go to bed intoxicated," replied Dumbledore. "Why am I here?" he repeated, as he waltzed._

"_I'm sorry," said Harry, trying to formulate his thoughts, "I believe it's our magic. I saw part of your dream last night."_

"_I gathered as much," replied Dumbledore, lifting Harry easily, turning, and replacing him on the ground. "What you saw was private," he said simply._

_The dream filled with guilt and they stopped dancing._

"_Albus, I—I knew about that."_

"_And you know how I die?"_

"_It won't be what you saw."_

"_Who are you?" whispered Dumbledore, gazing at Harry intensely._

_Unbidden, memories flashed through the dream. He was flying for the first time. He was in the Chamber of Secrets with Fawkes. He was standing in front of the mirror of Eriseid. He was in Dumbledore's memory of Tom Riddle's job interview._

_The ribbon of memory broke._

"_Who are you?"_

* * *

Harry was in his bed drenched in sweat. His heart was pounding. His scar was burning. No, that was just a hangover.

The morning sun streamed through his windows as Harry squinted across the room. It was past eleven. He magically took away his hangover and stumbled into the bathroom. He ran himself a cold shower to wake up. He shaved, and combed his hair while going over the dream he'd had. He'd given away a lot, but he wasn't worried. He could trust Dumbledore, and Dumbledore wouldn't confront him about it. He seemed to prefer puzzling things out himself.

Harry dressed in black robes, pocketed his wand, and pulled out the Marauder's Map. He had a suspicion that Dumbledore too had just woken up, and Harry didn't fancy an encounter. Dumbledore was pacing his bedchamber.

Harry pocketed the map and headed down to the kitchens; breakfast was over. He had several platters of breakfast food foisted upon him by the house elves, and he took them all back up to his office.

He sat behind his desk, slowly eating his breakfast—or lunch, as it was now past noon—and contemplating his days to come. When he was finished with his food, he vanished the leftovers and began wandlessly making objects in the office float.

He felt Dumbledore's presence approaching his door, and he didn't have the mental energy to evade a confrontation. He opened the door when Dumbledore was outside. Dumbledore hadn't bothered to raise his hand to knock.

"Good morning, Harry. I trust you slept well?" Dumbledore gave Harry a meaningful glance. "I thought you might want to discuss our duel before the students arrived."

"Yeah," lied Harry, "I did. I was thinking we could duel on the Quidditch pitch? We would be the most visible, I think, and have the most room."

"An excellent idea, Harry. And I have arranged so that the students have the afternoon off tomorrow. I didn't know how long of a demonstration you wanted."

"Brilliant," said Harry. "That gives us some flexibility. Thank you."

Dumbledore selected a lemon drop out of the bowl on Harry's desk. "I see you've arranged your office," he said, popping the lemon drop into his mouth.

"Yeah," said Harry. "What do you think?" Despite the memories of Dumbledore interrogating him in his dream, Harry felt himself relax. It was Dumbledore, the man who was fascinated by all types of light magic. The man who had saved Harry's life time and time again. The man who he had trusted unconditionally in his own time.

"I think you need another chair," said Dumbledore, conjuring one for himself.

"Sorry, sir" said Harry.

"No worries, Harry, but, I wonder, why do you keep calling me sir?"

Harry flinched. _So much for relaxing._

"Er, Albus, rather. It won't happen again," said Harry, dodging the question. They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Dumbledore looked up and frowned at the scoreboard.

"Harry, I would like to have a conversation with you over tea."

"Sure, Albus. Whenever you'd like."

"How about today at four? Unless you have a lot of work, but from the looks of it," he looked around at the objects still floating around the room, "I'd simply be taking your mind off of your…anticipation."

Harry swallowed, but put on an amiable smile.

"Sounds perfect," he said, his throat dry.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, abruptly. "I will see you at four in my office."

He turned on his boot-clad heel and left Harry staring after him.

Above him on the scoreboard, the number 2 below Dumbledore's name turned into a 3.

Harry needed to fly. He summoned his broom to him and it appeared immediately. Harry mounted it, and soared out his office window. He flew high above the forest and circled the campus like a hawk. He left campus and followed the snaking train tracks south. He pushed his broom to its maximum speed, which was somewhere above 300mph. When he started to see small clumps of buildings spread out beneath him, he made himself invisible. Then, beneath him he saw the train winding its way through the countryside and he dove. He dove faster than a freefall and pulled out of it in time to hover a foot above the train then touched down lightly. He shielded himself from the steam coming from the front of the train, and crept to the end of the car. He disapparated and found himself in the train in an empty corridor, still invisible. He looked into the carriage windows, looking wistfully at the students in each one. He apparated to the roof of the last car and sat watching the countryside go by, the wind in his face.

He thought about what he would say to Dumbledore. He didn't know what the conversation would be about, but he didn't want to do anything that would compromise his job before it had even begun. He sat for quite a while in thought, imaging different ways to put Dumbledore at ease without giving himself away. As he thought, Fawkes appeared at his side, humming over the rumble of the train.

"What should I do, Fawkes?" he asked the bird.

From within Fawkes, Harry felt a burst of emotion, leaping, swelling up inside him and making him gasp. And then he was cut off from the emotion again as Fawkes locked away his soul. Harry sighed, frustrated and confused.

"You speak a nice language," said Harry. "I wish I understood it." Fawkes whistled solemnly, and took off.

"Time to go," said Harry, looking at his watch, and he took off after Fawkes.

They flew back to Hogwarts together in the afternoon sun. Harry was surprised that Fawkes could keep pace with the Lightning broom.

Harry and Fawkes arrived back at Hogwarts with ten minutes to spare until Harry's tea with Dumbledore. Harry made himself visible once more, and stowed his broom. He climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office and chambers and told the gargoyles "phoenix." As he rode the spiral escalator, his stomach churned into knots. Fawkes kneaded Harry's shoulder reassuringly with his talons. He arrived at the top of the stairs and knocked on the heavy door.

"Come in, Harry," said Dumbledore from within.

Harry entered the room. Dumbledore had set up a low table by a window upon which was a tea set and biscuits. Dumbledore was standing behind his desk. If Harry hadn't known Dumbledore as well, he wouldn't have noticed that his eyes were moving a little more quickly than usual, but he did notice. Dumbledore was nervous. Or excited.

"Please, Harry, sit down," he said, motioning to one of the chairs.

Harry strode over to the chair by the window, glancing over his shoulder at Dumbledore who followed him to the table and took his own chair.

When they were both seated, Dumbledore poured Harry a cup of tea, and then poured his own cup. Harry trusted the Dumbledore in the future implicitly, but a tiny seed of doubt let his bowling ball aura reach out and test the tea for any truth potions or other unwanted additives. There were none. Harry felt a little guilty for his unjustified paranoia.

"Harry, I admit that I asked you here today because I am very curious about you. I saw you as a puzzle, but I became too impatient to put the puzzle together myself when I started seeing more of the pieces. I knew when I first dueled you that you are a very powerful wizard. In fact, I have never met another wizard who could intentionally cast spells wandlessly—oh, yes, I knew about that—, and I don't think I've yet seen the full extent of your powers.

"You said that you were not educated at Hogwarts, but you know the castle well already. You have a phoenix as a companion, and stock sweets that you don't eat. You pulled me into your dream, and broke into mine. You claim to have seen both my past and my future, and you know how I die, but I know nothing about you but what I see before me."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and frustration. Harry didn't know what to say. After his afternoon of flight and contemplation, he still didn't have an answer.

And he didn't have an opportunity to come up with one.

He sat in his chair, letting the silence to linger, but Fawkes had snaked his long neck up Harry's sleeve and grabbed his wand. He flew out of Harry's grasp, and onto the lap of Dumbledore, to whom he offered the wand. Before Harry could protest, Dumbledore took the wand from Fawkes's beak, letting his other hand rest on Fawkes's back.

Upon Dumbledore's contact with the wand and bird, both auras flared around uncontrollably, causing Harry's and Dumbledore's eyes to flutter shut. _Harry was looking out from his wand and he was out of control. He was all magic, and all of that magic was bare for Dumbledore to see. He could feel Dumbledore trying to understand Harry and what was happening. Harry had no choice but to entrust the secret of his magic to the other wizard in the room.__ Then, Harry was Fawkes, out of control. He was wild and his vision was in bright colors, and he was showing Dumbledore's aura this part of himself. He was showing him this blinding emotion, laying it out for the foreign presence to see, and he felt enraptured awe push back._

* * *

**A/N: I had fun writing this chapter. I hope you liked reading it. My beta reader's date says she told him she thinks I'm coming to the end of the story. LOL. Good one. Nah, I've got too many puns I still haven't worked in!**

**Next chapter: Start of Term FEAST.**


	13. Sorting Things Out

**A/N: Ok, so, sorry if I gave the impression that I wasn't going to write anymore. _I am going to keep writing!_ My beautiful and talented beta reader is currently at a thumb wrestling tournament in Kerblikastan (the thumb wrestling capital of the world). She works so hard, so I didn't want to risk her pulling a muscle by making her type up edits. Thanks for putting up with my errors.**

**IMPORTANT: Note for purists at the bottom concerning the fact that Ted Tonks is _indisputably _a Muggle-born wizard, not a Muggle.**

* * *

Upon Dumbledore's contact with the wand and bird, both auras flared around uncontrollably, causing Harry's and Dumbledore's eyes to flutter shut_. __Harry was looking out from his wand and he was out of control. He was all magic, and all of that magic was bare for Dumbledore to see. He could feel Dumbledore trying to understand Harry and what was happening. Harry had no choice but to entrust the secret of his magic to the other wizard in the room.__ Then, Harry was Fawkes, out of control. He was wild and his vision was in bright colors, and he was showing Dumbledore's aura this part of himself. He was showing him this blinding emotion, laying it out for the foreign presence to see, and he felt enraptured awe push back._

Harry jerked back to reality and snapped his eyes open. He reeled in his auras and threw up occlumency barriers almost audibly. –No, that was his wand falling from Dumbledore's hand and clattering to the floor. His eyes were wide and staring at Harry. Harry summoned his wand to him, looking at Dumbledore fearfully.

"That," said Dumbledore, a look of sheer excitement spreading on his face, "was extraordinary!" He stood up and stepped towards Harry. Harry stood up and backed away, his hands in front of him. He'd never seen Dumbledore like this before, and in the context, it scared him.

"I understand! We all have auras—our souls— and you—"

Harry threw his arms over his face protectively. "I didn't mean to—"

"—have—"

"No no no"

"—multiple—"

"Albus, please!"

"—auras!" said Dumbledore, backing Harry towards a wall, blue eyes twinkling. "This is intriguing! This is different from anything I've ever encountered, or even imagined. How many more auras do you have? What do they do? However did you get them?"

"Albus, don't! I can't!" said Harry, frantically.

"Oh, Harry, Harry," said Dumbledore gleefully, "I'll be able to answer the questions myself now that I know what I'm looking for…And if I become stumped once more, it seems Fawkes is willing to help me."

"Fawkes, you bloody traitor," Harry hissed to Fawkes.

"You don't have to hide from me, Harry" said Dumbledore seriously. "But it will be so much more interesting if you try," he said, ignoring Harry's panic. He reached out and touched Harry's cheek. Harry felt a tingle run down his spine and backed up to the wall before his body's aura could connect with Dumbledore's.

"You can't understand," said Harry bitterly. It was the worst thing he could have possibly said, because Dumbledore misinterpreted it. Whereas Harry meant "it would monumentally turn my life on its end if anyone understood who and what I am," Dumbledore heard "you are incapable of understanding," and therefore took it as a challenge.

"We shall see, Harry. And thank you for teaching me these new tricks." Just then, Harry felt Dumbledore's aura stretch and meet his. Dumbledore was really too intelligent for Harry's comfort; he had learned to manipulate his aura from Harry's example.

Harry jumped at the sensation, and let himself fall straight through the wall and several floors, away from Dumbledore's probing aura. When he allowed himself to land, he was in a corridor on the second floor. He stalked off moodily to office, distantly adding protective spells to his quarters.

The castle below Harry's office erupted in noise. The great hall reverberated with juvenile chattering and the slapping of shoes on the stone floors. Harry cast a silencing spell on his office walls to block out the noise, but he knew he had to go to the feast. He drummed his fingers on his desk for a few more minutes and begrudgingly made his way downstairs to the feast. He regretted his procrastination the moment he entered the hall and looked at the staff table. All of the professors were already in place and the only seat left was next to Dumbledore. Harry contemplated turning around and going back to his office, but Wister saw him and waved him over. Harry groaned and shielded himself mentally and physically. No one would even be able to touch him.

"Albus and I saved you a seat, Harry," grinned Wister.

"Thanks," said Harry, thinly masking his chagrin.

"I'm excited to see the sorting process," said Wister.

"Yeah, it's interesting," said Harry.

"What's interesting, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, turning himself to face Harry.

"The…Concept of using a live hat to sort the students," said Harry. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but Harry was saved further explanation by the doors opening and the first years filing in lead by Minerva. She placed a stool in front of the hall, and on it, the sorting hat. The great hall fell silent, and all eyes were on the hat as a rip near the brim opened like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

_Hello and welcome back you all,_  
_To start our year anew._  
_It's lovely to be in the hall_  
_Although I can't see you._  
_And once again the task is mine_  
_To sort you to your dorm._  
_I think of no better time_  
_To explain each house's norm._  
_In Gryffindor_  
_As customs go_  
_They brave out more_  
_No fear they'll know._  
_For Ravenclaw_  
_Who's intellect_  
_That's seen with awe_  
_I will select._  
_In Hufflepuff_  
_Are workers true._  
_When going's tough_  
_They stick it through._  
_In Slytherin_  
_The cunning are_  
_To meet their ends_  
_They will go far._  
_And now it's time_  
_To pick and choose_  
_Who in your line_  
_Will fill what shoes_  
_So try me on_  
_I cannot bite_  
_Don't be withdrawn;_  
_I'm always right!_

The hall burst into applause and cheers, and the hat bowed to each of the four tables and was still once more. Harry saw the line of first years relax a little.

"When I call your name, please sit on the stool and try on the hat. After you are sorted you may join your house table," said Minerva so that the whole hall could hear. "Black, Andromeda!"

Harry looked closer and could almost recognize for himself that it was Tonks's mother. Andromeda fixed a confident look on her face and marched over to the stool. She placed it on head, and a moment later, it cried "Slytherin!"

"Diggory, Amos" joined the Hufflepuff table, and Molly Weasley's red haired, twin brothers "Prewett, Gideon" and "Prewett, Fabian" joined Gryffindor. Later, the muggle born "Tonks, Ted," the future spouse of Andromeda, went to sit beside Amos Diggory in Hufflepuff. Harry also recognized "Trelawney, Sybil" who, even as an eleven year old, had massively thick glasses which fell off her face as she scurried off to the Ravenclaw table. Towards the end of the sorting Harry's eyes were drawn to a girl in the line who had been previously hidden from his view. She was immensely short, even for her age, and wore a horribly pink cardigan under her black Hogwarts robes that was even out of place in the fifties. Harry knew who she was before her name was called. "Umbridge, Delores" was sorted into Slytherin.

When the sorting was done, everyone cheered and Minerva put the stool and hat away. Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands to silence the hall.

"Another year has started," he boomed, "and I would like say several words to you, but the only ones you could possibly hear now over the rumbling of your stomachs are 'bon appétit.'" Dumbledore sat down, and the tables filled themselves miraculously with piles of food. Harry smiled in spite of himself. It had been years since he'd been to a Hogwarts feast. He helped himself to everything.

"Whatever has caused you to smile so radiantly?" asked Dumbledore from beside Harry. Harry hadn't noticed that he was being watched. His smile vanished.

"Haven't you had enough questions answered for today?" he asked, exasperated.

"For today," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Do try the potatoes, Harry; they're magnificent." Harry glared at his plate and unconsciously made the potatoes vanish. Dumbledore chuckled and turned back to his plate.

Between paranoid glances at Dumbledore, Harry examined the house tables. He didn't recognize most of the students. He suspected he wouldn't even recognize most the ones he knew because they were around thirty years younger than he'd ever seen them. He thought he recognized some future death eaters at the Slytherin table, and he noticed a surly looking teenager at the Gryffindor table that had a scruffy mane of hair that looked a lot like that of Rufus Scrimgeour_. _He resolved to peruse the Marauder's Map later to both find people he knew, and eerily appear to know everyone's names. He decided that scary but nonthreatening omnipotence was a good way to win respect and obedience from his students.

As the feast wore on, Harry became caught up in an undesired conversation with Wister about broomstick models. Harry was lucky he'd read so many Quidditch books; he had detailed knowledge of when each broomstick was invented and didn't have to worry about talking about brooms that didn't exist. Despite Harry's affection for the topic of Quidditch, he was put off by Wister's over flirtation.

"Though I like the Swiftstick for everyday flight, I find it doesn't get me up fast enough. The Oakshaft still does the job when I need endurance, but nothing gets me off my feet like the Cleansweep 4, though I did get swept away by the Shooting Star propaganda," Wister said, gazing at Harry.

Harry had to draw on his body aura to quell the blood flow that was turning his face red. Wister took a sip out of his goblet.

"Did you enjoy that, Harry?" asked Dumbledore from behind Harry. Harry turned and looked at Dumbledore, horrified.

"Excuse me?"

"The sorting. Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh," said Harry. Dumbledore raised his eyebrow. "Er, yes. I enjoyed the sorting," said Harry.

"What house do you suppose you would have been in?" asked Dumbledore.

"Gryffindor," said Harry, automatically. At this point, he was willing to answer Dumbledore's questions if it meant not listening to Wister talk about how firm he liked his broom shafts.

"And why is that, Harry? Why would you be a Gryffindor?"

Harry thought for a moment, and looked straight at Dumbledore.

"A wise man once told me that it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities, and the sorting hat knows that."

Dumbledore contemplated Harry's face for a moment.

"He told you the sorting hat respects people's choices? I didn't know you'd heard of the sorting hat."

"No!" said Harry quickly, "That part was me." He took a sip of pumpkin juice, trying to look casual.

"Regardless, that sounds like a very eloquent and wise man indeed. I admit, I value both traits highly and strive to embody them," he said wistfully. Harry choked on his pumpkin juice trying not to laugh. Dumbledore saw and came out of his wistful gaze looking hurt.

"Albus, you are ...wise, eloquent and noble, and I am pretty sure you will only be more of those in the future," said Harry seriously, "but, it would be especially wise, eloquent, and noble of you to stop your investigation of me."

"Harry, wisdom comes with age, and as you said yourself, I only look five minutes older than you. As such, I cannot yet be expected to choose the wisest and most mature directions."

"We are who we choose to be?" said Harry weakly.

"And thus I choose the braver and more interesting action; defying wisdom. As a Gryffindor and headmaster, I all I can ask for is to be brave and interesting."

Harry fell silent. Dumbledore was brave, interesting, and a very good arguer.

"And I will take a point for that, _if _you don't mind, Harry."

"I don't," said Harry confidently, "I'll catch up in the duel tomorrow."

"Indeed you are a Gryffindor," said Dumbledore. "I think we should change the rules of the duel."

"Albus, it's my class."

"Oh, I know, but you'll agree that we should do all of our magic visibly?"

Harry nodded grudgingly.

"That means no types of legilimency, _Albus_," said Harry.

"That means no types of occlumency, _Harry,_" said Albus.

"Well, we'll see about that," muttered Harry.

"I'm sure you are familiar with the Dueler's Charm?"

"Sorry. All of my duels have been of the non-recreational verity."

"It binds the duelers to an agreement and the charm indicates if either violates the agreement. It's quite standard, really."

"Oh," said Harry, weakly. Before Harry could think of an argument, the last of the desserts vanished from the plates.

"Sorry, Harry," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "Headmaster duties." He stood up and tapped on his glass with his spoon. "I trust you all enjoyed the feast. I have a few start of term notices to announce. I will remind you that the forest is off limits to all students. Mr. Ogg would like me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors. Also, we have two new members of our staff this year. I would like to introduce you to Professor Bloom, who will be teaching Herbology," Wister winked at Harry, stood up and took a bow. The hall erupted in cheers. "And the lovely, mysterious and talented Professor Crockett, who is our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher." From his sitting position, Harry looked sideways up at Dumbledore incredulously before forcing a smile, standing and waving at the students. "Professor Crockett has arranged a special Defense against the Dark Arts demonstration for tomorrow afternoon which will take the place of your classes." Dumbledore tried to put his hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry's magic made the long fingers slide off without so much as grazing Harry's robes. Dumbledore looked sideways at Harry.

"One point for Harry," whispered Harry.

* * *

**A/N for purists: Teehee I enjoyed writing this chapter. Sorry it took so long to post; I was doing copious amounts of research. So, check out the lexicon. There are NO people born at the right time to be attending Hogwarts this year, so I had to go through a lot of pages looking for people who could _possibly _be the right age. There really aren't that many. I took the liberty of bending a few people's ages (I'm pretty sure Andromeda and Ted are a little younger), and making up ages for a bunch of others. -And though I may have made up the age of Ted Tonks, he is _definitely _a wizard, not a Muggle. The relevant paragraph, you will find, is on page 295 of the Deathly Hallows. I'm putting this up here because I've gotten at least 10 reviews in response to this chapter telling me that he's a Muggle. He's not.**

**Until next time, adieu! (Which, interestingly enough, rhymes with "review." Imagine that!)**


	14. Lesson 1

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. I really have no time to write because of school. All I can really promise is one or two chapters a week, and if it's two, they'll both be on the weekend. Anyway, I meant to extend this to the duel, but I felt so bad about not posting for so long that I decided to put it in the next chapter, which should be up in a day or two. The real reason it took so long was because the uploader hates me. And I originally put "OH. And this chapter isn't beta'd because my Beta Reader was looking into her crystal ball last night and read that her boyfriend was about to come down with a really bad case of dragon pox that would last several months, so she decided to make up for future lost time and was unable to edit." For the second part of this author's note, but my beta reader replaced it with "This chapter was lovingly edited by the beautiful and talented Larxenne who enjoys spending her time editing my glorious yet occasionally typo-ridden story when not with her handsome and talented boyfriend (which, sadly for her but luckily for me, is a lot of the time)."**

**A/N now stands for Author's Novel.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"_Every little thing she does is magic, everything she do just turn me on, even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on."_

Harry woke up to his musical alarm. He'd picked one of his non magical Muggle vinyl records at random, put it in the player, made the player work with magic, and set it to go off at seven. This morning, he'd woken up to the Police. He let the song run as he dressed.

Harry dressed in deep red robes with golden hems and began picking out which of his soul objects he would bring to the duel. To be at the top of his game, he needed some of them or he would be crippled, but he didn't want Dumbledore to be near any more of them than was absolutely necessary. He knew he would bring his wand; it was a necessary part of the duel and the center of his magic. The other object he decided to bring was the record. He wanted his reflexes sharp, and, though he hadn't experimented with the record much due to its other side effects, he thought it might lend him a clairvoyant edge if he did. He shrunk the record, protected it with magic, and put it in his pocket, then descended from the tower.

He attended breakfast. All of the heads of houses were busy distributing schedules to their house members. Harry was able to eat quietly by himself while planning for his first lesson. He had received his schedule, and he was slotted to teach the first year class first thing that morning.

He finished his breakfast and went quickly to his classroom with twenty minutes remaining before the start of class. He cast a disillusionment charm on himself and made sure all of the cushions were in place, and he waited. When he sensed the first students outside, he opened the door magically before they could even touch it. The two students filed in looking wary. Harry slammed the door behind them, invisible. The students looked around the room.

"Did you do that? I didn't do that."

"Don't joke with me! I didn't do it!"

"Maybe it was the wind."

They continued speculating nervously and sat down on the cushions. Three more students arrived and Harry did the same thing with the door. Some of the students sat down looking nervous. Others walked around the room, poking at the dark detectors and windows. Most of them were chatting nervously.

"The door did the same thing with us!"

"Have you seen Professor Crockett?"

"He was at breakfast."

"Maybe he's in his office."

"Where's his office?"

"I think it's behind that door up there."

"Does anyone know what time it is?"

"Are we early?"

"Should we go get him?"

"We can't leave!"

"Someone try the office door."

"I'm not doing it."

Harry sat watching the exchange. All of the students were now present, and Harry was looking at the Marauder's map committing their names to memory.

Ms. Dolores Umbridge got up from her cushion and put her hands on her hips. "Professor Crockett is late. That's very irresponsible of him indeed. I'm going to get him from his office."

Harry waited until she was past the blackboard and wouldn't be able to see its face, and then magically wrote on the board.

"_1. Trying the door to a room with unknown contents is not wise, especially since your other exit is locked."_

The students stared at the board. A few let out gasps, but none of them said anything. They all looked nervously at the squat girl climbing the stairs to Harry's office door. Dolores Umbridge reached out to the door, and when she touched it, she vanished. Harry had placed a disillusionment, silence, and immobulus charm on her.

A few of the students screamed.

He wrote more on the board underneath the first message.

"_2. Neglecting to convey a warning to an ally is foolish, even if she didn't deserve it."_

Harry disillusioned, silenced, and immobilized the rest of the Slytherins on the cushions for remaining silent when they knew of Umbridge's not-quite-peril. He could see on the Marauder's map where each of the invisible students sat, and he could sense their presence. In sweeping the whole classroom, most of the students were terrified, but two were distinctly amused. Harry didn't have to look on the map to know that they were the Prewett twins. They had put their red haired heads together and were whispering excitedly.

The other visible non-Prewett students had stood up and were looking around the room bewildered. Harry wrote a third message on the board.

"_Please stand on one foot."_

Harry felt the Prewetts auras alight with silent amusement.

The two other students looked around at each other.

"We'd better do it!"

"I wish Professor Crockett were here!"

All of the students except the Prewett twins tentatively stood on one foot and promptly vanished.

The red haired Prewetts, visible and not on one foot, both snorted as if to an inside joke and looked expectantly up at the board.

"_3. Do not trust objects unless you can see where they keep their brain. Five points each to Gryffindor for Mr. F and G Prewett."_

The Prewetts grinned. All of the students reappeared mobile again. Harry apparated back into his office, removed his own disillusionment charm, and came through the door. He came face to face (or face to mid-torso, as it were) with a very flustered looking Delores.

"Good morning Ms. Umbridge. Can I help you?"

"I—I" stammered Umbridge.

He wrote, "_The stairs and balcony are off limits. There will be consequences for any trespassers."_

When the class remained silent, he enlarged the words that said "_2. Neglecting to convey a warning to an ally is foolish, even if she didn't deserve it."_

After a beat, the Slytherins all lunged off their cushions shouting various warnings to Umbridge about standing on the balcony. As soon as Umbridge distinguished the meaning of the shouting, she nearly toppled down the stairs and took a seat on one of the cushions.

"Settle down," said Harry from the balcony, quieting the shouting Slytherins.

He magically erased the board and the words "_Welcome to Defense against the Dark Arts_" on the board, and as an afterthought, added "_with Professor Crockett."_Not that he was worried about them forgetting his name.

"That was _you_?" blurted nearly everyone in the class. Harry twirled his wand in his fingers.

"Mmm yes," he replied. "Though you will have a thorough demonstration of defensive and offensive magic this afternoon in the context of a duel, I thought it would be prudent for you to experience a situation where you were in an unknown and potentially threatening situation. It is important to be accustomed to your fear and know how to override it. But, of course," he looked at the Prewetts and smirked, "It seems I will have to try harder with some of you. Mr Fabian Prewett, would you care to tell me how you knew you weren't in real danger?"

"Well, sir," said Fabian confidently, "We knew the door was locked, but we checked the windows and they were all right. We thought that if something horrible was attacking us, it would have locked the windows."

"Indeed," said Harry. "That was very smart of you to check the windows. They would prove useful as they aren't far from the ground. And why did you choose not to stand on one foot, Mr. Gideon?"

"Well, actually, sir, we sort of wanted to be vanished," said Gideon enthusiastically.

"But we were pleased when we go the right answer, of course," finished Fabian.

"Firstly, technically none of you were 'vanished.' I used a combination of spells, but none of them was a vanishing spell. Can any of you tell me what I used? You, there, Ms. Black."

"I know you used a silencing charm on me," she said, "I couldn't talk or make any sounds."

"That is correct, Ms. Black. Five points to Slytherin. Anyone else?"

None of the first years had any more answers, so Harry answered himself.

"The spell that made you invisible was called a disillusionment charm. It's quite advanced and you won't be learning it until your fifth year. The spell that froze you in your place was the immobulus curse. It's quite useful indeed, along with some simpler spells that work similarly. You might learn those this year.

"Today, however, we are going to start by learning how to get help in a dangerous situation. You haven't learned any magic yet, and would be no match for any dark witch, wizard, or creature so it is important for you to know how to alert someone to your situation. Can any of you think of something that might accomplish this? Yes, Ms. Umbridge?"

"Excuse me, Professor, but I think it would be better if we learned to defend ourselves first. I mean, there's no one here that's going to attack us. We're in a school. You certainly weren't going to hurt is; you're our teacher. You're harmless."

"Ah, Ms. Umbridge," Harry sighed, "If you are willing to trust that none of your new classmates might want to try out their new spells at the exact moment they are passing you in the hall, you may leave this class and skip this lesson. As for me, my first Defense against the Dark Arts teacher spent the year trying to kill me. I suggest that you have at least some means of conveying distress besides whining in case you find yourself in a similar position."

Some of the students looked horror struck. The Prewetts looked between each other and Harry with awe.

"Can anyone think of a way?" One of the Slytherins raised his hand.

"Could—could you make a loud noise?"

"Yes, thank you. That is one way to do it. However, can anyone tell me what a disadvantage of that would be?"

The boy raised his hand again sheepishly. "I suppose it would be hard to make it last long enough for someone to find you."

"Exactly," said Harry. "Five points to Slytherin. Can anyone think of something that you would only have to do once? Something that would mark your position for longer?"

A Gryffindor girl raised her hand. "Maybe some sort of symbol floating in the air above you?"

"Very good," said Harry, "But for now we're going to work on sending up different colored sparks with our wands, and making them stick in the air. Eventually, we will add sound so that more attention can be attracted to your spell."

Harry lined all of the students up in front of the mirror, and asked them to produce sparks from their wands. Despite a well chosen wand's tendency to shoot out sparks jubilantly with one wave, some of the class managed to mess up by trying too hard. Umbridges robes caught fire when Andromeda's wand shot quite a few more sparks than she'd intended. Harry put them out with a glance.

Umbridge's wand did nothing, on the other hand. Eventually, Harry managed to coach her until a few feeble sparks shot out the end.

The Prewett twins were sending sparks into the air, but, whether purposefully or not, each shot was accompanied by a deafening bang. He suspected it was intentional, though, because after Harry shot them a reapproving glance, the noise subsided.

Eventually all of the first years were able to make a stream of sparks shoot into the air all the way up to the ceiling. Next, Harry taught them how to change the color.

"The color is important. Generally, wizards who see red sparks will associate them with distress, whereas green might easily be celebration."

The class went through the same process of trying to fix their sparks. One of the Gryffindor girls made streams of bubbles any time she tried to make green sparks, but could make red ones quite well.

By the end of the class Harry was very impressed with the improvement. All of the students had managed to create red and green sparks with an accompanying noise. Albeit, Umbridge's sparks were always mixed with pink and some members of the class had only accomplished pops to go with the sparks, but the Prewett twins managed to shoot showers of sparks that stuck to the ceiling with a deafening series of bangs. Harry awarded them another five points each.

"Your homework will be to practice your sparks and try to make them stay in the air above you. I will test your progress next lesson. I will see you all this afternoon."

The students, who were chatting excitedly about the lesson, made their way to the doors, except for the Prewett twins who edged suspiciously to the window.

"Really boys," said Harry, "I think you'll find that the door will be a better way to exit the classroom. It is unlocked."

"No!" said Gideon enthusiastically, "Look outside!"

And Harry looked.

It was clear what the twins were looking at. He could just make out the Quidditch field from the window, and over it, house-sized objects seemed to be moving. Dumbledore was setting up for the duel.

Harry gulped.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so the duel's in the next chapter. Sorry for not putting any Dumbles in this chapter. I trust you'll get over it =D.**

**Also, credit to the **_**Police **_**for the lyrics at the beginning of the chapter. It's from the song "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic."**


	15. The Duel

**A/N: WOW I loved writing this chapter. Please review and tell me what you think.**

**This isn't beta read because my Beta Reader told me she was incredibly busy with something very important. Said it was something about mixing shampoo with her hair and water. Must be a chemistry experiment or something. *sniff* That crazy kid's gunna cure cancer…**

* * *

Despite Harry's confidence in his magic, he was nervous. He bolted down lunch in the effort of avoiding Dumbledore, and edged off to the Quidditch pitch. Dumbledore had finished setting up for the duel. Around the field were display boards. Harry was unaware of their purpose. The hoops on either end of the pitch had vanished. Around the entire stadium, Harry could feel protection in front of the stands.

"What do you think Harry?"

Harry jumped and spun around. Only a few paces behind him stood Albus Dumbledore, who had apparently learned how to mask his aura and presence.

"One point Albus," he said flourishing his hand. Harry glared and Dumbledore's smile faded slightly.

"What are the boards for?" asked Harry, changing the topic.

Dumbledore drew out his wand and called "_Lumos!"_His wand tip lit, and on each of the boards were the words "_Lumos_, illumination charm: Dumbledore."

"Clever," said Harry.

"Thank you. And shall we more specifically set the rules of the duel?" Harry looked pained. "Harry, I would like to apologize to you. I let my enthusiasm for new magic get away from me. While I happen to be very interested in your magic, I will restrain myself from attempting to magically invade your privacy. By no stretch of the imagination does this mean that I will cease trying to puzzle it out, but I want you to know that you need not see me as a threat."

Harry felt so conflicted; he trusted Dumbledore, but then he would remember how it could mess up his life if anyone knew all of his secrets. The effect of this was a lot of flip-flopping looked repentant.

Harry looked at Dumbledore intently. He looked like he knew that he had frightened Harry. He looked like he cared. Instead of being frustrated with and wary of Dumbledore's curiosity, he felt sorry for being so rude to Dumbledore, and grateful for his respect.

Harry looked deep into Dumbledore's blue eyes, and he saw was innocent curiosity. He saw intelligence and kindness. He saw into the eyes the man who had saved him and had given up everything to protect him and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stay upset with Dumbledore. He knew that he would always trust Dumbledore. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Alright, thanks," he said, looking back into Dumbledore's eyes. "Let's figure out the rules," he said hastily changing the subject. "I think we'll both agree to not use unforgiveable curses and dark magic?"

Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

"And I think our aim in the duel should be to harmlessly, er, incapacitate the other?"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore.

"Are there any other parameters that you would like to add?" asked Harry.

"Nothing comes to mind," said Dumbledore, "except that the duel will end immediately in the case of any…accidents? Shy of that, I sincerely hope you won't hold back."

"Of course," said Harry.

"Then I will cast the charm?" asked Dumbledore. Harry nodded and Dumbledore continued. "Then we hold hands like this," Dumbledore reached out to Harry as if to shake his hand. Harry let the hand hover in the air for a moment before taking it, keeping his aura buried as he did so. Dumbledore's hand was smooth and warm and his fingers wrapped gracefully around Harry's. "This is similar in theory to an unbreakable vow, however if one of the wizards breaks a rule, they lose the duel rather than dying.

"Now I will list the agreements, which binds me to the agreement, and after each one you say the words 'I agree' to include you in the contract. Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded. Dumbledore, keeping his eyes locked with Harry's, drew the elder wand and tapped their hands where they joined. "In this duel I agree not to use dark magic."

"I agree."

A ribbon of red light encircled their hands. Harry's hand tingled and twitched involuntarily in Dumbledore's. Harry looked back up to meet Dumbledore's unrelenting gaze.

"I agree to end the duel when one of us has been harmlessly incapacitated for one minute."

"I agree."

"I agree to stop dueling in the case of an injury or dangerous accident."

"I agree."

The three ribbons of light danced around their hands, turned blue, and disappeared. Harry looked back at Dumbledore, his hand still tingling slightly. They stayed that way for several moments, their tingling hands clasped until they were interrupted by the distant rumble of feet and chatter of a crowd approaching. Harry withdrew his hand and looked away to hide his blush. Dumbledore blinked a few times and lowered his hand. Both of them stared in silence at points around the stadium as they listened to the crowd outside the stadium crescendo and begin climbing the stairs of the stands. They both looked up at the same time and their eyes met. Each nodded, and they walked in silence to the middle of the pitch.

The stands filled quickly. The noise wasn't what Harry was used to on the pitch. The crowd was not clapping and cheering as much as talking and whispering excitedly in anticipation. It gave Harry the impression of being inside a beehive.

"Ready?" he asked Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded.

"_Sonorus!" _said Harry, and his voice boomed across the stadium. Across the boards was written "_Sonorus_, voice magnification spell: Potter." Harry saw the board and panicked. The board knew his real name. He couldn't confund the board because then it would likely read "Confundus charm: Crockett." He quickly reached out to it with his magic and bent it to his will. The name changed from Potter to Crockett. He glanced at Dumbledore and had the sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore, too, had just been looking at the board. His stomach lurched, but he focused instead on the spectators.

"Good afternoon! Thank you, students, for coming to the demonstration! Professors, thank you for giving up your class time. As you may or may not have guessed, the demonstration will be a duel between me and your very generous headmaster. For our safety, we have cast a Dueler's charm with a specific set of rules, but in a hostile dueling situation this would not be the case. Also, for your viewing purposes, Professor Dumbledore has added the boards around the stadium to tell you what spells we are using.

"The goal of our duel is to incapacitate the other for one minute. Please feel free to pick one of us to root for, but remember that I'm the one grading you."

The observers in the stands laughed.

"Neither of us will use any dark magic, but some of the magic may be very potent and for that reason there are strong shields between you and the field. The purpose of the duel to your Defense against the Dark Arts lessons are for you to witness the speed of the duel and the variety of spells used, and I would like you to pay special attention to our defensive magic. And now we will begin! I hope you enjoy it! _Quietus!" _said Harry, and "_Quietus, _voice quieting spell: Crockett" flashed across all of the boards. Dumbledore glanced at the board and narrowed his eyes for a moment before facing Harry.

They stood several paces apart and bowed to each other, maintaining eye contact. They both turned around and walked ten paces and turned back around. The boards flashed a count down.

"…3…2…1…" and there was a bang as the duel started.

"_Expelliarmus!"_shouted Harry.

"_Protego,"_said Dumbledore, each of their incantations flashing up on the board.

"_Levicoloportus!"_cried Harry, momentarily forgetting that the spell hadn't been invented. Dumbledore was yanked into the air by his ankle, his robes falling over his head exposing his high heeled buckled boots and a pair of loosely fit padded leather quidditch trousers. Harry'd always wondered what Dumbledore had under his robes.

Dumbledore remained upside down, but Vanished his obstructing robes so that he could see. Over his torso he wore a red collared shirt with gold stitching. Harry noted that the two of them were both dressed in Gryffindor colors.

With his vision no longer impaired, Dumbledore resumed shooting spells at Harry despite being upside down and in mid air. Harry dodged most of them, but he was hit with a shielding charm that stopped him from moving in any direction or casting any spells at Dumbledore. Dumbledore took that moment to flip like an acrobat in the air and land gracefully on his two booted feet.

Harry knew that he could eventually figure out how to remove Dumbledore's shield around him, but decided that it would take too long. Instead he pointed his wand downward and carved a hole through the grass and fell into it. He carved a tunnel and walked along in it until he thought he was under Dumbledore.

"_Reducto!"_he said, as he pointed his wand upwards, blasting dirt and grass out from above him. He levitated himself out of the crater and found that Dumbledore had rolled to avoid the explosion just in time and was getting to his feet. Before Harry knew it, the sod around him was levitating and the grass roots were growing and elongating. The roots were floating closer and closer to binding Harry. Before Harry could react, thick rings of root constricted around his legs like iron, and Harry tripped and toppled over. Before he could be bound anymore, he transfigured the roots into water and the water sloshed into the ground. Apparently this had given Dumbledore an idea, for he quickly conjured a six foot orb of water and descended it onto Harry, encasing him within it. At least Dumbledore had had the forethought to also cast the bubble head charm on Harry's head so that he did not drown.

Harry was stuck in the center of a hovering sphere of water, and he was gaining altitude. He couldn't believe it—this is exactly what Dumbledore had done to Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic. Harry's arms and legs flailed around him, and though he kicked and paddled he could never get his head, hands or feet closer than a few inches from the edge. He tried casting spells, but his magic wouldn't break the surface. He thought of boiling away the water, but he would also end up boiling himself alive. He looked over at one of the display boards. The water was distorting his vision, but he could just make out that a countdown had started signaling that he had less than a minute to escape.

He could think of no solution. He gazed through the shiny blue surface of the water and down at Dumbledore, who was waving his wand in a complicated pattern.

And a memory struck him. As he gazed through the shiny blue water, he felt oddly similar to when he'd woken up in the blue crystal. And with that memory, came one of the memories he'd witnessed during his ten year sleep.

_He and Dumbledore were standing beside a basin full of glowing green liquid. Dumbledore was moving his wand in complicated pattern over the basin muttering quietly. He stopped. "This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature." Dumbledore raised his wand and conjured a crystal goblet. "I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk."_

And Harry knew how to get out of the bubble.

He pointed the wand at himself and removed Dumbledore's bubble head charm. Then, he let the water flow into himself. He gulped it down as fast as he could, and transfigured himself a pair of gills while he was at it. He had already drunk more than a normal person should, but his body aura allowed the water within him to be compressed, but eventually his body bloated comically. The diameter of the bubble had only been an inch or two taller than his height, so Harry's body was soon forced into a crouching position. Harry used all of his magic to make his stomach impossibly larger until he, himself looked like a great balloon. He supposed he looked like his aunt Marge had when he'd blown her up.

And when the magic sphere could force Harry no smaller, the surface of the water broke, and Harry fell from the sky. He collided with the ground and his body sloshed against it like a gigantic fleshy water balloon. Harry opened his mouth and great waves of water rushed out of him soaking into the grass. The countdown had stopped, but still read "Crockett: 3 seconds". He straightened up and cast a shielding charm around himself, still squeezing water out of his body through his mouth. He removed his gills, and since Dumbledore's spell had gone from the water, Harry vanished most of it from his system instead of continuing to vomit it up. He felt the bloated feeling leave him again. He was free from the water, albeit a bit soggy. He dried his red and gold robes with a quick spell.

He looked across the field. Dumbledore was standing with his wand at his side, his lips parted slightly. As soon as he met Harry's eyes, however, he raised his wand and fixed a look of concentration on his face. Harry mirrored his gesture and spells flew between them once more.

They danced farther apart and closer. Sometimes they were at opposite ends of the field whirling and drawing up spells with both hands, and sometimes they were only five paces apart. The stadium echoed with the chant "Croc-kett! Dum-ble-dore! Croc-kett! Dum-ble-dore!" accompanied by clapping and stomping.

Once, when they were merely feet apart, Dumbledore blossomed the beautiful bubble words from his wand. They reached out to Harry and Harry couldn't help but try to read them as they circled his head. They said something beautiful, something comforting. He was enraptured, hypnotized. He found himself still trying to decipher the words, his conscious thought slipping away, until the crowd around him began counting down from ten. He snapped out of it and conjured a great ring of fire that burned the letters.

Harry wielded the fire like a lasso and sent it flying until it encircled the place where Dumbledore stood. The fire burned so high that Harry could no longer see Dumbledore. The display boards started counting down, but after only thirty seconds, Dumbledore flew over the twelve foot flames on the back of a great lion, his robes (back in place) billowing behind him. The lion landed gracefully and started bounding a lap around the field, Dumbledore still on his back. Dumbledore raised his wand and moved it in great circles over his head. A great wind began to blow around him, tossing his wavy auburn hair dramatically over his intense features as he rode the lion. He continued his motion until he was as far from Harry as possible, and then the lion stopped. Dumbledore stopped moving his wand. His hair stopped blowing around him. He stood still for a moment gazing at Harry, and Harry looked back, a little nervous.

Then the wind hit Harry with a force that didn't so much knock him over, as lift him violently into the air. The wind tore at Harry's robes, and his short hair whipped his face. His wand was whisked from his hand as he was pulled in all directions. He flew upside down and sideways. He hardly knew where he was, but then he was back on his feet in the middle of the field. The wind was gone without a trace.

Harry spun around. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, and Harry's wand was missing. He looked up at the crowd and they were silent. He looked up at one of the display boards. It read a log of the spells they'd each recently cast.

"Unknown: Crockett  
"Unknown: Dumbledore  
"Unknown: Crockett  
"Animal Transfiguration: Dumbledore  
"Unknown: Dumbledore  
"Unknown: Dumbledore  
"Disillusionment charm: Dumbledore

So Dumbledore was invisible. Fortunately, Harry didn't have to rely on his eyes to know where people were. He had his auras. He was missing his wand, and his body aura was relatively useless, so Harry closed his eyes and began forming contact with his instinct aura. It could have been worse, though Harry. At least the instinct aura would give him the best reflexes once he found Dumbledore.

Harry began panning out his instinct aura around him. He tried to ignore its side effect; he had forsaken one of his instincts for so long that getting in such close contact with the aura for so long was making hot blood pool in Harry's abdomen, and his pants tighten uncomfortably. He mentally thanked whichever wizard had set robes as a trend rather than tights.

Harry searched in vain for Dumbledore's aura. It was nowhere to be found. The headmaster had hidden it well, but then Harry thought to try to find places where he couldn't search. Harry tried finding holes in his magical vision. He swept the entire stadium…except…a yard directly behind him. Behind him was a Dumbledore sized spot he couldn't see. Harry almost jumped in surprise. He scrambled to regain his wits (which became more difficult the longer he was in contact with his instinct aura), and focused in on his blind spot. He probed at it with his aura. He dug into it. He tore at it. Finally, he crushed it, and Albus's aura was exposed. Albus's aura mingled with Harry's raw instinct for a whirling moment of silence and then…

"You found me," whispered a deep singsong voice in Harry's ear.

"Did you think you could stay hidden?" asked Harry trying to keep his voice calm despite his breath quickening as he felt Albus's invisible breath on his neck. Harry didn't turn around.

"No," said Albus sliding an invisible hand down Harry's arm. Harry shivered. _What was he doing?_ "I hoped you'd find me. My only question is…what are you going to do with me now?" Harry could feel Albus directly behind him. He could feel his warmth through two sets of robes.

"The aura…your aura you used was unfamiliar. Does it do to you…" Albus took a shuddering breath, "What it did to me?"

Harry groaned and realized that he hadn't used any occlumency on his aura. His face, already flushed from accessing his instincts, turned deeper red. He threw up his occlumancy around the aura, but the damage had been done. Albus pressed closer and Harry inhaled sharply.

"It's so pure," he rumbled invisibly, breathing in the scent of Harry's hair. "It's so strong…it makes me want to—"

"Albus," interrupted Harry before he lost himself in Albus's words, "I think it's time to duel again. I—I am going to walk away, and you can reappear or I can make you visible."

"Or I can make you invisible," said Albus. Harry could hear him smiling.

"Bugger," said Harry, as he saw himself vanish below his eyes. He was invisible. He was no longer under the watch of the stadium. His body was on fire and the man behind him was not helping. No one would see if he…He was free to turn around and…His brain was clouding over and he could only imagine how Albus felt; Albus had just been exposed to an entire aura of someone else's distilled raw instincts, most of which, in the absence of hunger and danger, were screaming to mate.

Harry needed to save both of them. He closed his invisible eyes and envisioned a solution… A bell rung.

And then he and Albus were sprawled across the ground, completely covered in icy cold yellow paint. They scrambled to their feet, both slipping and sliding. The paint had served to make them visible and to shock them out of their hypnotic daze. And now the two of them were completely yellow.

The bell was still ringing and Harry and Albus looked around for the source of the noise. Their eyes fell on the display boards which read,

"Disillusionment charm: Dumbledore  
"Disillusionment charm: Dumbledore  
"Dumbledore: 0 seconds  
"Crockett: 0 seconds  
"Conjuring: Crockett"

The bell stopped ringing and the stadium was silent. Harry was sure he'd be able to hear the spectators blinking in astonishment, had his ears not been filled with paint. Beside him, Albus stood contemplating the display board. Albus was the first to speak.

"A duel well fought, Harry," he said, extending his yellow hand.

"Er, yes, and you too," said Harry, "thank you. It was a pl— an honor," he said, taking Albus's proffered hand gingerly. _Please don't fire me._

The audience burst into wild applause and cheers and Harry jumped almost a foot in surprise. When he landed, he slipped in the pool of paint and fell. Albus, whose hand was stuck to Harry's by the drying paint, was pulled down on top of Harry. Harry's cheeks burned.

"And once again, we end a duel on the ground. Don't worry," said Albus, reading Harry's mind. "After a demonstration like that, a little fall isn't going to lose you their respect."

"And your respect, Headmaster?" asked Harry, wincing. _Please don't send me to Azkaban._ Albus paused.

"Has never been higher for anyone," said Albus solemnly.

They looked at one another as they lay in the pool of yellow paint.

"Here's your wand, Harry," interrupted Albus. He pulled it out of his pocket and accidentally smudged it with yellow.

"Oh, I am sorry, Harry," said Albus. "I'll clean that off." Without looking at what he was doing, Albus began rubbing the wand with his saturated robes, effectively turning the whole wand yellow.

Harry chuckled and the spectators thundered on.

* * *

**A/N: YEAH. So. That's that.**


	16. Hounding

**A/N: R&R.**

* * *

Two yellow figures led a massive crowd through the doors of Hogwarts and into the Great Hall. Two entirely yellow men dined at the head table smiling silently as the great hall roared enthusiastically around them. Two yellow men went off to the base of a tower and ascended through a trapdoor.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation about this afternoon," said Harry, finally Vanishing the yellow paint. It stung like ripping off a Band-Aid. Fawkes whistled at him from his perch.

"You owe me nothing, Harry, but I will not turn up my rather crooked nose at the prospect of hearing your explanation," said Albus, his paint melting away smoothly.

Harry glanced at Albus's nose offhandedly obscurely remembering how it had broken. After the duel, Harry found himself wishing to tell Albus all about his magic. He wanted to see his blue eyes alight with excited curiosity as they had with fierce competition. He wanted to share his magical secrets, at least, if not his personal ones. Now that he trusted that Albus wasn't going to try to rape his mind in search of answers, he felt like he might guard his secrets less heavily and allow some of the burden to slide off his shoulders. Besides, he felt guilty and embarrassed for his aura's erotic effect during the duel.

He nodded and took a deep breath. "I had a …an accident about a year ago and I've been like this since," said Harry. "You were right. I do have multiple auras and they do different things. What you felt today I…" He looked at Albus and blushed furiously at his intense gaze. Harry wished he was still covered in paint so that Albus would not see the blood rushing to his face. "I didn't mean to…You weren't supposed to…" Albus raised his eyebrows and Harry became more flustered. "Frick, Albus, I'm sorry for doing that to you."

"I am unfamiliar with that word."

"Sorry?"

"Frick."

"Oh."

"You speak so strangely sometimes, Harry. It's as if you have a foreign accent, but it's more subtle than that."

"I promise it's got nothing to do with my auras," said Harry, trying to change the subject away from his 21st century language. "Anyway, what you felt…that was the aura of my basic instincts."

Albus's face betrayed no expression but his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Your instincts are as potent as your magic."

Harry winced.

"That's what the accident did. All of my characteristics have equal… potential and they're separate," said Harry. They fell silent. Albus paced pensively over to Harry's stash of lemon drops and picked one out. The silence compelled Harry to continue. "There are a total of seven parts. One is in my—my body," he said distractedly. Albus was walking around Harry's room examining objects. He stopped in front of the bowling ball and pins. He picked up one of the bowling pins and held it out to Harry.

"What is this?"

Harry was caught completely off guard.

"Th—that's a…that's a bowling pin, sir— Albus."

Albus looked at him with blank curiosity.

"It's for…" Harry paused and shut his eyes tightly, trying to switch from talking about his soul to talking about bowling. "It's for a sport. A Muggle sport." Albus shifted the pin in his hands until he held it like a beater's bat, smiling with his eyebrows raised. Harry smiled weakly and shook his head. Harry took the pin from Albus and set it up on one side of the room with the other nine. He conjured bumpers to make a short isle and slicked the floor. He picked up the bowling ball (paying careful attention to his occlumency), and rolled it down the floor. He'd only ever bowled once during a ministry party, so he wasn't very good and only managed to knock over a few pins. "You're supposed to knock them all down," said Harry. Unprovoked, the pins all fell over where they stood. Harry looked at Albus. "With the bowling ball, Albus. And on your turn."

"Goodness, that does make more sense," said Albus, eyes twinkling. Harry suspected he'd understood before knocking over the pins.

"Well, have a go, then," said Harry retrieving the bowling ball and resetting the pins. He showed Albus the three holes for his fingers and then handed him the heavy ball.

"You aren't going to make me lose, are you?" he asked, piercing Harry with an unfamiliar gaze.

Harry looked at him blankly.

"Stand back there. I don't want you to trip me. I bet you taught me this wrong," he said with uncharacteristic aggression.

"I'm not going to…I didn't…Oh," said Harry as Albus rolled the ball towards the pins. Apparently, Harry's occlumency hadn't been strong enough and his paranoia had affected Albus.

"Your bowling ball rather upset me," said Albus.

"Yes, it does that. It's probably best you don't touch it."

"Is that your paranoia and fear?"

"Well, er, yes, actually."

"And however did it get inside a…bowling ball?"

"I suppose the same way all of my auras found their way inside different objects."

"Why didn't you tell me that? What other secrets are you hiding from me?" asked Albus, his eyes narrowing and his hand twitching towards his wand.

"Oh great," said Harry. "Here, try on this hat." Harry tossed him the elaborate lady's hat that contained part of his soul. Albus caught it suspiciously, but smiled as he worked the felt between his fingers.

"Content. Happiness. Joy."

"Wow," said Harry. "You figured that out faster than I did and it's my soul."

"It's so pure and undiluted," said Albus, beaming. He swept the hat onto his head and conjured a mirror on Harry's wall. "And may I say, what a remarkable hat." Harry rolled his eyes. He could feel his aura mingling with that of Albus's, and his own happiness intensified as they mixed.

Albus continued bobbing around the room. He picked up a chess piece and replaced it. "That chess set likes to play itself," said Harry. on

Albus watched the set for a moment, and the white pawn on the far left moved forward.

"Hmm," said Albus. "That was always Armando's first move. The man loved chess"

He took another lemon drop and put it in his mouth. He stopped at the record player and turned it on.

"_Young teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasy. She wants him so badly, knows what she wants to be. Inside her there's longing. This girl's an open page. Bookmarking—she's so close now. This girl is half his age. Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me."_

Harry had been standing immersed in his own and Albus's Joy, but at the Chorus of the song he came back to reality. He lunged and shut off the record player, nearly knocking over Albus. Albus looked at him questioningly.

"I really don't like that song. I'll have it stuck in my head for days," Harry lied, rifling through his album collection looking for anything labeled and anything pre-sixties. "I much prefer…Elvis!" He quickly pulled out a beat up Elvis record and put it on the turntable instead of the Police (who did not exist as a band in 1957).

The room crackled with the static of the record, and then Elvis Presley's voice began to grind out the lyrics to "Hound Dog."

"I like American music. I believe Elvis will be remembered for a long time," said Harry over enthusiastically with a finger in the air. Albus didn't say anything, but peered down at the record over his long nose. Harry stood watching him until "Hound Dog" had finished playing and all that was left was the scratching of the record player and record. Albus removed the arm and stopped the disk.

Without looking up, Albus asked "What is your surname?"

Harry's heart began to pound. "Crockett."

Harry felt suspicion that was not his own flow through his aura. He snatched the hat off of Albus's head and banished it to the top of a wardrobe.

"I showed you my magic. Wasn't that enough? You couldn't just leave it alone, could you Dumbledore."

And then Albus Dumbledore found himself alone in his study with a half of a lemon drop in his mouth.

* * *

**A/N: Credit to the Police for the lyrics of "Don't Stand so Close to Me," btw. Hah…such a great song. So many appropriate Police songs for this fic…**


	17. Flying Solo

**A/N: Oh I **_**do **_**hope you like this chapter. It got very complicated to write, so it took quite a while. Also, my beta reader is…let's see…this time she's at an under-water-basket-weaving clinic on the border of Russia and Mongolia. Also, thanks to Toki Mirage for inspiration and patience. Enjoy! (Review, please! It really does make me write faster).**

* * *

"_Expelli-a-rammoos!"_shouted Cornelius Fudge as he waved his wand at another Hufflepuff second year. Instead of doing anything to the other boy, Fudge's own rather long hair stood up on end. It gave him the appearance of a dandelion.

"Remember, Mr. Fudge, it's '_Expelliarmus._' And your hair—it's a good look for you. Now, Mr. Bones," he said, turning to the other boy, Edgar Bones, "why don't you try?"

Edgar waved his wand in Fudge's direction and shouted "_Expelliarmus!"_Fudge's wand soared in a graceful arc and landed in Edgar's outstretched hand.

"Well done, Mr. Bones. Keep practicing, both of you." Harry turned and poked through the other pairs offering tips and guidance. His stomach rumbled. He had been skipping meals in order to avoid the great hall and Albus. He was horrified that he'd almost given away his secret of being from the future and almost blown his cover as Harry Crockett. He'd been tempted by the prospect of a friendship with Albus and had gotten too comfortable. He wouldn't let it happen again. He didn't need Albus.

The bell rang.

"Good work, class. By next class I want you to be able to disarm me. Keep practicing! Enjoy your lunch." The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws crowded out of the classroom. When they'd all left, Harry sagged onto one of the cushions, his stomach rumbling audibly. He'd been using his body aura to suppress his metabolism, but it had been days since he'd eaten. He decided to risk a trip to the kitchens.

He crept through the halls using as many shortcuts as he knew. He was flying blind because he'd locked all but his body aura (including his wand) in his tower and had added protection to his tower that cut off his connection to the objects. He didn't want to take any chances of being compromised because of his auras.

He darted down the hall in the basement to the portrait of the bowl of fruit and tickled the pear. It turned into a door knob and he yanked the door open.

Inside the kitchen was the usual chaos heightened by the lunchtime rush above. He scanned the room. His gaze halted on a figure on the other side of the room by the faculty table. Though he was bent over, Harry could tell the person was almost twice as tall as the house elves. It was Wister.

Harry waded through the churning house elves to the head table. Avoiding Albus had been very isolating, and Harry found himself actually wanting to talk to Wister. Wister wasn't the sharpest tentactula leaf in the greenhouse, so Harry wasn't the slightest bit worried about Wister catching on to his time travel mystery.

"Hello, Wister," said Harry. Wister jumped and knocked over a luscious bowl of fruit salad. Several house elves scurried to clean up the mess.

"Oh! Harry. Why, hello. Where have you been recently? I've missed you at lunch!"

"I've been finding the Great Hall a little too loud for me," Harry lied.

"Oh, uh," said Wister. "Do you want to have lunch with me instead?"

"Yeah, ok," said Harry.

They commandeered a few platters of food and a few goblets, and Wister levitated them out of the kitchens. Harry and Wister poked through the basement until they found an unused room with a table. Wister set the food down on the table, and conjured a pair of stiff wooden chairs. They sat down and began to eat.

Harry found, as the meal went on, that he didn't mind Wister's conversation anymore. He felt relaxed, at ease and carefree. He found himself drifting contentedly and he didn't have any inclination to question it. He didn't notice when he took a bite of sprouts—his least favorite food— and he didn't mind the taste when he did. He just kept eating. He was particularly enjoying his beverage, which never seemed to need to be refilled, though he'd drunk copious amounts of it. He was hardly hearing anything Wister was saying, but for some reason he found the conversation intoxicating. His thoughts started to become fuzzy.

Wister's voice reached through his fog to him. "I'm going to tie you up, ok Harry?"

"That sounds nice," slurred Harry. "You're a really gr…great friend, Wisster."

"Yes. I am a great friend. Just not yours," said Wister.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at the head table examining a particularly luscious bowl of fruit salad that had inexplicably poured itself on his lap. It was rare that house elves knocked food over in the basement kitchen. He Vanished the spilled fruit, probably resolving to check on the kitchen after the meal (though knowing Dumbledore, he could just as easily have been mentally calculating the next move to an imaginary chess game against himself). He finished his meal slowly and pensively sipped his goblet of pumpkin juice. When he was done, he set down the goblet, pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned, either because of some painful personal dilemma (or possibly the frustration of being checkmated by himself).

Albus dabbed his mouth with his napkin, stood, and swept out of the hall. He turned to the stairs that led to the basement and stepped down them lightly, his robes sweeping the steps behind him. He strode down the low ceilinged hall, tickled the pear, and opened the door. As he stepped in, the house elves began to rush into cramped lines. They took off their white, Hogwarts-stamped oven mitt hats, and swept into identical bows.

"Good afternoon!" Albus called. "I was wondering if any of you noticed a disturbance here in the kitchen this afternoon."

A female elf stepped forward. She had a matriarchal look about her, and had a black mitt-hat rather than white. She spoke confidently.

"No, sir, nothing was being wrongs with the meal today, sir. We is not having anything wrong."

"Did you see anyone in the kitchen who was not an elf?"

"No, sir, there is not being anyone—"

A young elf stepped forward and interrupted.

"Master Dumbledore, sir, Master Bloom and Master Crockett was being in here during lunch, sir."

The elves looked at the young elf murderously.

"We is sorry, sir. Roopie is being new sir. He is not knowing his manners sir," said the head elf.

"Please do not punish him or let him punish himself," said Dumbledore. "Roopie, what were Harry and Wister doing in the kitchen?"

"They is taking a goblet and knocking fruits over, sir. Then both masters Crockett and Bloom are leaving with foods, sir."

"Thank you, Roopie. Thank all of you." The house elves bowed. Dumbledore exited the room through the portrait.

Back in the hall, he stood still with his arms at his sides, his face a mask. His eyes shone. He blinked and a tear rolled out of one eye, but then the hall in front of him exploded into fire and after Albus had finished shielding his eyes, the tear was gone.

Albus barely had time to register Fawkes, before Fawkes had gripped his talons into the shoulder of Albus's robes and was dragging him insistently down the hall. They stopped in front of a closed door. Albus couldn't hear anything from within, but after casting a quick spell he learned that there was a silencing spell on the wall. Fawkes whistled urgently. Albus tried the door, but it was locked. "_Alohamora!" _he rasped, but nothing happened. "_Reducto!"_nothing happened.

Fawkes disappeared and reappeared a moment later with a bowling ball gripped by the holes in one of his talons. He swung it forward and it crashed into the door.

Albus got the idea, and before the ball hit the ground, he had it levitating. He shot it towards the door, and the door cracked under the impact. He shot it once more at the door, and this time it made a hole all the way through. Albus enlarged the hole with his wand and climbed through.

The sight on the inside of the room would have made a normal person's stomach turn over with shock. Harry was shackled against one wall making little uncomplicated sighs. Wister was in front of Harry with his back turned to the door. He was partially obscuring Harry from view. Tom Riddle was sitting on a grand green armchair a few paces from the standing pair. His legs were crossed, and a greedy, amused smile played across his face.

Neither Voldemort nor Wister noticed Albus; the silencing charm had prevented any noise of his entry. Harry, on the other hand, smiled contentedly over Wister's shoulder at Albus and sighed. Albus's face tightened. He looked like he was going to use surprise to his advantage, until the air next to him burst into flames and Fawkes appeared whistling angrily. Voldemort and Wister whipped around to find the source of the noise. Voldemort leapt to his feet and drew out his wand when he saw Albus. Wister made a high pitched squeaking noise and turned back to Harry, doing something with his hands that Albus couldn't see.

"Hello, Tom. May I ask what you are doing with these staff members?"

"Dumbledore! For your information Wister here is working for me. Yes, I infiltrated your school right under your nose!"

"Tom, I am sorry that you feel the need to do things like this."

"I bet you're sorry, Dumbledore. You'll be even sorrier when I make Harry Potter here kill you!"

Fawkes took that moment to sink his talons into the back of Voldemort's robes and he and Voldemort vanished in a whirl of flames.

Wister, still facing Harry and the wall, seemed to notice the silence and turned around.

"Albus, I—"

The air around Albus crackled with magic.

"You what? You didn't mean it? He promised you things you couldn't refuse?"

"Exactly, Albus. How did you—"

"You have two minutes to get out of the castle safely. I, unlike you, do mean it. And that, unlike Tom's, is a promise you shouldn't refuse. Get out of my sight," he whispered dangerously.

Wister took a moment to stare open mouthed at Albus. Then the meaning of his words sunk in and Wister ducked past Albus and hopped through the ragged hole in the door.

Albus fell across the room to Harry. In an instant the shackles were gone, and Harry staggered away from the wall, swaying goofily.

"Helloo, Professessorr Dumbledore, Albussir. You missed the party!" He collapsed onto Albus, Harry's arms wrapping around Albus's neck for support.

"Harry," said Albus weakly, searching Harry's green eyes. "What has happened?"

"Wisszter and I were…were having a party…and then he thought it would be fun to tie me up…and then Voldemort showed up to our party, and he had some ideas about how to make it more fun…" Albus grimaced. "Don't make that face. It was…it was ffun! Let me show you," slurred Harry. He swung Albus around and slammed him into the wall. With more focus and accuracy than one would have thought possible, Harry pressed his lips to Albus's. One of his hands snaked down Albus's chest. Albus inhaled sharply. Harry broke the kiss. "You taste like lemon drops," he said.

There was a rush of noise.

"Get off me you _imbecile _bird!" said a high cold voice from the room behind Harry. There stood Voldemort once more with Fawkes flapping his wings madly around Voldemort's head, his talons clearly still stuck in Voldemort's robes.

Albus pushed Harry off himself and stepped between him and Voldemort.

"Fawkes, silly, you tried to make Moldyshorts go away but it didn't work! We should trim your toe nails so you don't get stuck on anyone else that ugly," giggled Harry.

"Silence you bespeckled fool!" snapped Voldemort, finally managing to throw Fawkes off himself. "_Be silent for now, anyway,"_he added in parceltongue, smiling to himself. _"I'll want you to scream for me later when I have you to myself. Mine."_

"_Is 'now' over yet?"_asked Harry hissing and spitting in parceltongue.

Voldemort's jaw dropped and Albus actually turned around to look at Harry.

"_You understand me?" _asked Voldemort a slight pink tinge creeping into his icy features.

"_Well, yeah,"_said Harry. "_I was going to save the surprise for a more dramatic time, but dirty talk like that shouldn't go unacknowledged."_

"_Saving the surprise? How did you know I speak it? How do you know so much about me? Who are you!"_

Albus took that moment to begin sending spells at Voldemort. Voldemort conjured a shield in front of himself, and shot a few spells back at Albus. Albus hopped out of the way accidentally leaving Harry exposed.

"_Imperio!"_hissed Voldemort. The spell hit Harry dead on.

Harry was already in a state of carefree floating, but when the imperious curse hit him even his fluffy happy thoughts left him. He was cut off from five sevenths of his soul and power source, was drugged, and under the imperius curse. If he had been in a regulated duel, the "incapacitated" clock would have started counting down, and Harry would have had no thought nor intention to stop it.

_Come stand next to me, Harry. Just walk over and stand next to me._

Harry wobbled slightly, but strode over to Voldemort's side and faced Albus, expression as blank as his mind.

On the other hand, Albus was involuntarily causing the air around him to crackle with magic. Both Harry's and Voldemort's hair began to stand on end. Dust swirled through the basement room and the wind blew Albus's hair and robes forebodingly. The bare light bulb in the middle of the ceiling flickered.

_Harry, kill Dumbledore. Just use your wand and kill him._

Harry reached into his pocket to retrieve his wand, but it wasn't there. It was locked away in his tower.

"I haven't got a wand," said Harry dreamily, looking sideways at Voldemort.

"You haven't got a…? Well, this won't be nearly as satisfying if you don't kill him, so take mine."

_Take my wand. Kill Dumbledore with it. Take my wand. Kill Dumbledore with my wand._

Harry took the wand from Tom Riddle's fingers and pointed it at Albus.

"_Avada Kedavera!"_said Harry dreamily waving the wand.

Nothing happened. There was no flash of green light.

Along with Harry's own wand, Harry's magical core was locked in the tower. He couldn't do magic without accessing it, and trying to access it wasn't the next thing that occurred to his compromised mind.

No, instead Harry strode calmly back over to the magically crackling Albus. He walked around behind him. Albus didn't move, but continued to stare into Voldemort's eyes as Harry reached around and pulled his long auburn hair back. He stood completely still as Harry threaded the wand around Albus's neck and started to pull on both ends, cutting off Albus's airflow.

Voldemort watched Harry with confusion for a moment, but then a look of horror bloomed across his face.

_Stop! _came the order through Harry's mind, but it was a moment too late. The wand Harry had been using to garrote Albus cracked in two, sending sparks across the floor. Albus coughed lightly and turned to face Harry.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Yeppers, I'm good, Albus," Harry replied goofily. The imperius curse was gone and had been replaced by his loopyness.

"A little too good, I daresay," he said to no one in particular.

"Albussy?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Your antagonist has escaped."

"Oh bother," said Albus spinning around to face the door. Voldemort had fled. Before Albus could dash away, Harry grabbed the back of his robes.

"Don't bother. 'Snot meant to be. You won't catch him."

"Harry, look what he's done. Think what he'll do! He's wandless now, but he'll get another one and—"

"Yew. 13 and a half inches long. Phoenix feather. This phoenix, actually," said Harry, gesturing drunkenly at Fawkes.

Albus stopped trying to leave.

"Harry, what is going on?"

"Nothing," he said smiling like a child who'd been caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," said Albus, calm, but clearly frustrated. "I have half a mind to put you to bed with a dreamless sleep potion until the other potion wears off."

Fawkes, apparently trying to be helpful, took off and slammed into Harry's back, knocking him into Albus. When Albus had caught Harry, Fawkes gripped onto Harry's shoulder and the three of them vanished in a whirl of flames and reappeared in Harry's tower, still embracing.

"That was very thoughtful of you, Fawkes, however we are short one dreamless sleep potion," said Albus, putting Harry back on his feet. "Harry, could you remove your protection on the tower so I can go find you some?"

Harry shook his head, smiling sheepishly.

"Fawkes?" asked Albus, "Could you help—"

Fawkes burst into flame and disappeared.

"He's hungry," said Harry. "Silly phoenix, Trix are for teachers!"

"I assume you put up the extra protection so that I couldn't get in?" asked Albus.

"You bet! It's funny, because now it's keeping you in here. Alone. With me."

"You need to sleep, Mr. Crockett."

"I thought you knew that's not my name," said Harry, suddenly finding himself drowsy.

"I did figure that out, yes. However, I'm not going to take advantage of your condition by asking you lots of questions about it," said Albus, positioning himself so that he could catch Harry if he fell.

"Mmm, you can take advantage of me, Albus. I know you want to. Remember the duel?"

"Harry, your current state of mind is endlessly amusing. However, I think it is time that you slept."

"Are you going to take off my robes?"

Albus flicked his wand and Harry's robes were replaced with purple silk pajamas to match the bed.

"Tricky, tricky," said Harry as he staggered to the bed and pulled back the comforter. "You're a sharp one, Albussy."

Harry tried to climb into the bed, but lost his balance. Albus caught him, but one of Harry's flailing arms knocked into Albus's head, nearly sending his glasses flying.

"Albussy, Albussy, glasses askew," Harry said in a singsong voice. "I see your eyes, so shiny and blue…"

Albus helped Harry into bed, and soon Harry fell still, breathing deeply. Albus perched himself on the side of the bed and removed his half moon glasses. He massaged his temples and the bridge of his nose. He replaced his glasses and peered through them at the sleeping Harry.

Harry was still wearing his glasses, so Albus lightly lifted them from his face. In doing so, his hand passed over Harry's magically concealed scar. Albus felt the trace of magic and froze. He set down Harry's glasses and picked up his own wand. He easily removed Harry's concealment charm.

Albus reached down and brushed Harry's bangs away from his forehead to find a thin, lightening shaped scar there. He pursed his lips and replaced the concealment charm. He threaded his fingers through Harry's hair, lost in thought.

The minutes ticked by and turned into hours, and Harry slept on. Albus occasionally got up to get a lemon drop, but mostly sat vigilant over Harry. Fawkes came and went, and all Albus said to him was, "Shh, Harry's sleeping."

* * *

**A/N: Yay, attempt at conflict. I'm working on it .  
By the way, anorexia is bad. Do not attempt to skip meals for several days in a row. Harry has magic that lets him do that. =P  
Ten points to anyone who knew that "luscious fruit salad" was a reference to another fic…**

**Reviews will make me write faster!**

**-Moonlight**


	18. Down to Earth

**A/N: So this chapter isn't beta'd because my beta reader is in isolation in Wolfram and Hart's Dangerous Diseases ward because of her case of Mystical Swine Flu. Send her well wishes.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Nessi who is bored out of her mind in Canada (no offense, Canada).**

* * *

Harry slept all afternoon and evening. When it became clear that Harry wasn't going to wake up soon, Albus paced quietly around to the other side of the bed and stretched out on top of the thick purple covers. He lay with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed, staring up at the canopy. Eventually he drifted from abstract thought into sleep. Both Harry and Albus slept through the night.

Harry awoke first. The sun was shining through the windows onto his bed. He stretched, feeling well rested and content. He sighed and looked around himself.

Upon seeing Albus on the other half of the bed, he started violently and fell off the edge of his bed. As he gazed over his own body, clad in unfamiliar purple silken pajamas, his memories of the previous night returned. The effects seemed to have mostly worn off, but Harry was still too cheerful to be horrified.

Careful not to wake Albus, Harry stood up and crept into the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water helped to hold back the impending tide of uncomfortable and troubling thoughts.

* * *

"_Ho, ho ho, it's magic! You know, never believe it's not so. It's magic…"_sang a voice from behind the bathroom door. Albus opened one eye and yawned. _"Leaning on my pillow in the morning…Lazy day in bed, music in my head. Crazy music playing in the morning light. Ho, ho ho, it's magic! You know, never believe it's not so."_Albus uncrossed his long legs, shook the pins and needles out of them, and crossed them the other way, gazing curiously at the door. He lay back and listened to Harry's off-key singing from the shower. He heard the shower shut off, and a moment later the door opened and Harry walked out.

Albus studied him with wide eyes from the bed.

Harry wore only a fluffy white towel around his waist and his black hair was dripping. He was slender and pale, but well muscled from spending years keeping up his auror training and a year living in a forest. He had no hair on his chest, but beneath his defined abs was a trail of dark hair leading under the towel. Over his heart was a dark, oval-shaped scar. He strode over to the wardrobe, still humming. He reached to undo the towel.

"Good morning, Harry," said Albus quickly and loudly.

"Albus!" Harry spun around and caught the towel before it fell. "I forgot you were here. Er. Good morning," he said, grinning sheepishly. Instead of going back to rifle through his wardrobe, he waved his hand and a set of yellow robes appeared over his body. "How are you?" he asked, striding over to pick up his wand.

"Well rested, thank you," said Albus, swinging his legs off the bed. "And how are you?" He turned around to find Harry absentmindedly looking around the rooms and shooting individual flowers out of the end of his wand. "Oh, I see," Albus grimaced.

"Sorry, Albus, what was that?"

"I asked you how you are this morning," Albus smiled, pulling on his buckled black boots.

"Marvelous," said Harry. "Would you like to go flying with me? I suppose you won't let me do anything useful until this wears off completely."

Albus chuckled. "It is not a matter of what I will or will not let you do, Harry. I am not your keeper. I am your employer and more relevantly your friend. I would _suggest _that you don't try to do anything useful. For example, I'm afraid that writing a lesson plan containing instructions on how to shoot flowers at one's enemies would be a waste of your time. Flying sounds like a pleasant diversion, however. Do you possess a broom?"

"I possess a broom on _so many levels, _Albus."

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

Harry summoned his broom and allowed it to hang in the air between Harry and Albus.

"It's _POSESSED!_" The broom zoomed around the room spastically as Harry commanded it with his soul.

Albus sniffed, his face expressionless. "I will meet you on the lawn in fifteen minutes. I suggest that you don't talk to anyone on your way there."

"Righto, Professor," said Harry. He magically opened the trapdoor when Albus was a meter from it. Harry twirled his wand showily.

"Harry, will you be alright here by yourself?"

"Really, Albus. You've nothing to worry—" There was a bang and Harry was suddenly drenched in a thick clear liquid. "Bollux. I'll clean this up. Really, Albus. I'll be fine. I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

Albus grimaced and hesitated. Harry made a shooing motion and Albus grudgingly turned and dropped nimbly through the trapdoor with a last fleeting glance before he disappeared.

* * *

Harry sat invisibly beside the lake with his invisible broom and Fawkes by his side. He'd cleaned himself of the liquid, intentionally doing so before he could register _exactly _what it was. When he was clean, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself and walked (not skipped) to the grounds. It was a sunny warm day, so many of the students were lounging around the grounds doing homework or tossing a Frisbee. Harry found himself sleepily enjoying the weather himself.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. Albus stood behind him. His auburn hair shone in the early afternoon sun. He wore a fresh set of plum robes and had a silver arrow broomstick over one shoulder.

"Walk with me?" asked Albus quietly. Harry stood up, tucking his broom under his arm. Fawkes took off and circled overhead.

"What's with you and purple?" Harry muttered in Albus's ear.

"You can see me?"

"Well, you're not invisible or anything. What did you expect?"

They passed a pair of students walking down the path and Albus waved his hand in front of one of their faces. The student didn't react. "I am invisible, actually. And as a consequence, I expected that you would not be able to see me," he smiled. "Obviously, I was mistaken."

"Well, how can you see me, then?"

"I'm Albus Dumbledore," he said simply, his eyes twinkling, and strode off down the edge of the lake leaving Harry behind.

"You really are," said Harry, before skipping a bit to catch up.

The two invisible men made their way to the empty Quidditch pitch and mounted their brooms.

"I brought a snitch. I seem to recall you that you play seeker? It's my preferred position as well." He pulled the golden ball out of a pocket of his robe.

"Oh, awesome," said Harry.

"I'll give it a head start." He tossed it into the air. Its wings unfolded and the little ball zoomed off and disappeared. "I'll have you know, Harry, I was picked for the Quidditch team when I was a first year. I won't think any lower of you if you can't keep up."

Harry snorted. Harry'd been told he was the he youngest Quidditch player in a century. He'd always wondered who the player a century ago had been. In spite of knowing that he was up against a possible equal, he wasn't worried.

"Don't play easy," he said, his confidence flowing through his broom.

"I'd never," said Albus as he kicked off the ground. Harry didn't take off and instead watched Albus from the ground. He flew remarkably well. His robes and long hair whipped behind him as he circled the stadium, and his glasses glinted in the sun. Harry watched his progress as he rose and dove, admiring Albus's grace and form. Then, behind Albus's broom blossomed words written in smoke.

"_It's hard to catch the snitch from the ground, especially when it's by those goal posts over there."_

Albus sped off in the direction of the opposite goal posts. Harry saw the snitch and kicked off the ground. Albus was already half way across the field. Harry smirked and leaned forward on his broom, shooting forward. If he hadn't already been affected by a disillusionment charm, he would have become invisible to a human eye due to his speed. Harry easily caught up to Albus before he reached the goal posts and slowed down to fly next to him.

"Sorry, Albus. I couldn't quite read what you'd written," he grinned. Harry couldn't quite tell, but he thought he saw Albus roll his eyes. They both turned back to the goal posts, but the snitch had vanished. Harry sped back up and gained some altitude, scanning the stadium for the snitch. He flew clockwise around the perimeter of the field. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Albus was also gaining altitude, but was flying counterclockwise. They passed, and passed again. They passed a third time and Harry glanced over his shoulder at Albus.

His stomach lurched as he saw that Albus had taken a steep dive. He wheeled his broom around and was soon diving alongside Albus. It wasn't a feint. He could see the snitch hovering close to the ground. Albus flew beautifully, but whether or not he was a match for Harry, his Silver Arrow was no match for Harry's Lightning. Harry outstripped him easily and caught the snitch, pulling out of the dive to coast a foot above the ground. Albus was still diving. Harry thought he was going to crash into the ground, but at the last second, Albus pulled up impressively and came to glide beside Harry.

They looked at each other and neither spoke for a moment as they continued coasting side by side. Harry broke the silence.

"One point Harry."

"Well, yes," said Albus, "but I must point out that our brooms are rather different. I'm confident that I would win had I a futuristic broom like yours."

Harry blanched at his wording. He couldn't know Harry'd gotten it from the future.

"I admit, I've never thought to improve a broom with my own spells," Albus continued.

Harry relaxed. So, Albus thought Harry'd fixed the broom himself. Well, it made sense. He _could _have done it himself and it was more likely that Harry'd fixed his own broom than that he'd been born thirty three years in the future, lived the life of a hero, had a broom designed specially for him, gotten stuck in a glowy crystal and sent back in time.

"I can fix yours for you…here." He grabbed the broom shaft between Albus's legs and yanked it closer to himself. Beneath his fingers pulsed the magic of the broom. He closed his eyes and felt out with his magic aura. He grabbed his own broom's shaft and, feeling through the magic, he changed each spell on Albus's broom to match the ones on his own. When he was done, he opened his eyes and looked back up at Albus who was still mounted on the broom beside him coasting forward.

"There. It should work like this one now," said Harry.

"Thank you Harry."

"You're welcome."

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes, Albus?"

"The score is five to four, is it not?"

"I think so."

"Then make it six to four."

"For wha—"

Harry crashed headlong into one of the goal posts and fell a meter or two to land spread eagle onto the ground. He groaned. "You _whore_!"

"From your attitude I would judge that you have recovered from the potion…however your choice of words suggests otherwise," said Albus, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. He hovered a meter above Harry and the ground.

"And what do you gather from this, Albus?" asked Harry. He lunged upward and swiped Albus's broom from beneath him. Albus toppled out of the air and landed in a heap of limbs on Harry with an "oof".

"The only response that dignifies," said Albus through Harry's laughter, "is, as you put it, 'you _whore!'"_

They played Quidditch for a few more hours. It turned out that they were evenly matched. Harry flew faster and more agilely than Albus, but Albus had uncanny strategy. It seemed that he could predict where the snitch would go before it got there. Eventually, after they'd caught the snitch three times in five minutes, they decided to turn the snitch invisible and give it a slight telltale ringing noise. Eventually they eliminated the ringing.

As the afternoon wore on, Harry noticed that his drug induced high had slowly been replaced with the natural high of flying. The wind in his face and the speed of his heart racing had done what sleeping had not. He felt his mind clear, which was good as he was now flying with his eyes closed, listening for a faint whir of wings. It was difficult to distinguish sounds through the wind in his ears. Once, he'd accidentally grabbed Fawkes who had been innocently circling the stadium. Fawkes had twittered irritably and flown off to perch on one of the goal posts.

With his eyes shut to help his concentration, he sped around the stadium. Then, he heard it. The unmistakable whir of the snitch had flown right past his ear. He turned and followed it, trying to pick up its sound again. He heard it faintly from in front of him somewhere. He was as quiet as possible. He sped up and the whirring got closer, but then it dipped down beneath him. He followed it into a dive. He dove, listening to the sound of the snitch. All of a sudden, he realized that he was diving blindly at a rapidly approaching ground. He would surely crash. His eyes flew open; however it was not the ground that he saw. Albus was rushing at him from below, eyes tightly shut, hand outstretched.

Harry couldn't react fast enough.

"Argh!" he said, a second before impact. Albus's eyes opened in shock, and the two collided. They fell to the ground, their descent slowed enough to be harmless by the brooms. They landed in a tangled pile of limbs and brooms.

"So I vote we tell the Department of Magical Sports and Games that silent-and-invisible-snitch-hunting-with-closed-eyes should not be made an international sport, hmm?" groaned Harry.

"Ah, but," said Albus ironically, shifting to reach his hand between himself and Harry.

Harry cried out in alarm. "Merlin! What are you—"

"We've got the snitch." And, indeed, he pulled out the invisible ball. "We seem to have caught it simultaneously when we collided."

"Oh," said Harry, taken aback.

"I suppose it has international sport potential after all."

Harry laughed. "I promise you, it'll still be Quiditch by the new millennium." Then he stopped talking, rather irritated at himself for making a reference to the future.

"Are you feeling better?" asked Albus.

"If by better you mean no longer absurdly happy, then yes. And if you mean remembering…" He trailed off. He was, indeed, feeling more grounded, and now that he was no longer flying, the memories of the previous night came rushing back with full force and meaning. He remembered Wister tying him up. He remembered the dark lord appearing and asking him questions. He remembered _answering_. He remembered the dark lord ordering Wister to chain Harry to the wall, among other things. Harry remembered _enjoying _it due to the potion. He remembered trying to kill Albus, and shuddered to think what would have happened if he'd had his wand.

Then he remembered slamming Albus into a wall and kissing him. He gasped and his eyes met Albus's. He groaned and smacked himself in the face, grimacing in embarrassment as he scrambled off Albus and to his feet.

"That was quite a potion," frowned Albus, resting on his elbows. "Help me up?"

Harry reached his hand down gingerly. Albus grasped it and pulled himself up. As they let go, they heard a note from above and both looked up. Fawkes had jumped from his perch on the goal post and was swooping down gracefully to join the two men.

"Have you ever gotten the feeling that Fawkes knows you better than you know yourself?" asked Albus.

"I'm fairly certain that he does," said Harry.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Harry has a week of classes and comes up with a plan to solve his Voldemort problem.**

**R&R!**


	19. Unconditional Trust

**A/N: Yippee a long chapter. So, hmm. Oh. Right. This chapter is dedicated to ShadowFoxTrulsRohk who wrote one of the most fantastic review I've ever read. Shadow, I hope this chapter is the secret to your cure. Love, Moonlight**

* * *

Harry sat at the faculty table poking his food with his fork. To his left was Albus. For the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, someone other than Wister was to his right. The students were whispering.

Harry couldn't blame them. He'd have been whispering with his classmates too if two teachers and the headmaster disappeared for a day and a half in the middle of a Friday. Harry and Wister had missed classes, and only Harry and Albus had reappeared at all. It was, indeed, suspicious. The other faculty members were curious, but they weren't whispering secretively. They were—

"_Really, _Albus? In the middle of a school day? With _two _other professors? For over twenty four hours?" asked Minerva, scandalized.

"He didn't start it," said Harry.

"_You _started it? I had you pegged for a little weird, but not _that_—"

"I am-wait what? Albus, what did you _tell _her?"

"I told her nothing," said Albus, gazing calmly out at the students. "It seems that when I disappeared with the two most attractive male professors in the school Minerva jumped to her own conclusions."

Harry glanced over at Albus and could have sworn his cheeks were a little pinker than usual.

"Albus! It's not entirely unreasonable! I've seen you—especially with—"

"Calm down, Minerva. I'm going to make an announcement to the school."

"I hardly think your personal life is fit for—"

"Minerva, a little trust, please, and a little less harassment."

"What are you going to do?"

"I won't do anything foolish, Minerva. Looking before I leap is a skill of mine," he replied, as he stood up.

"Bloom was pretty foolish and you had no problem doing—"

"May I have your attention!" said Albus, ignoring Minerva. The great hall was charged with the students' attention. "Thank you. I would like to thank those of you who had herbology or defense against the dark arts classes yesterday afternoon for your patience. I have been told that you handled your teachers' absences with maturity.

"On a more serious note, Professor Bloom will not be returning to his post. He has made the unfortunate choice of allying himself with a dangerous wizard, Tom Riddle. I must impress on all of you: if you see Mr. Bloom or Tom Riddle in the castle, please tell a member of staff immediately. Attempting a duel with either, especially Tom Riddle, would be futile and dangerous for any student."

Something was nagging at Harry's conscience. Albus Dumbledore was standing in front of the students of Hogwarts telling them to fear the man that Harry killed. These kids would grow up to be in war after war against or with Voldemort. Harry's eyes alighted on Rufus Scrimgeour, a boy in the seventh year. Victim. He saw Ted Tonks. Victim. Bartemius Crouch. Victim. The Prewett twins. Both victims by the hand of Voldemort. Even the carefree fifth year Alastor Moody would be driven to questionable sanity and eventually killed by the monster in question. Once Harry began to think about it, it was difficult to find a person in the room whose future would not be marred by Voldemort.

Even Albus. Even Albus would be killed because of Voldemort.

And Harry knew how to stop it.

Harry had to kill Voldemort.

"We are searching for a replacement for Professor Bloom. Until further notice, herbology classes will be canceled. Professor…" Albus hesitated, closing his mouth and opening it again. "…Professor Crockett will be resuming the Defense against the Dark Arts classes on Monday morning as usual. In addition to that, first years will have their first flight lesson on Wednesday afternoon on the Quidditch field."

Harry tuned out. He was already imagining the scenario that led to Voldemort's early defeat. He imagined circling...never looking away from those red eyes. He saw the room before him rippling with his magic and he saw fear flash through the slit pupils. He raised his wand and—

-and received a sharp prod to his left shoulder. He looked up and met Albus's blue eyes.

"Sorry, Albus. What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, but I thought you should know that your hair is standing up conspicuously," he said quietly. Harry thought he saw a trace of a frown.

Harry realized that he had tensed his magic as he imagined his encounter with Voldemort. He quickly let go of the energy and felt his hair flop down around his ears. Albus smiled, wiping away the trace of his frown.

"I'm a little tense," said Harry.

"Indeed. And for that, you should get a good night's sleep."

Harry looked around and realized that he and Albus were the only ones in the hall. Harry blinked in surprise.

"Right, of course," he said, trying to figure out how the students had left without him noticing.

They stood up in unison and walked out of the hall in an uncomfortable silence. After climbing several flights of stairs, they exchanged goodnights and parted ways. Harry ascended to his tower and went to bed, thinking about his planned attack on Voldemort.

He would kill Voldemort in the flesh first. Harry was sure Voldemort had only created six horcruxes rather than his eventual seven, so he reasoned that it was possible that Voldemort could sense the destruction of one of them. Voldemort's soul was split into the most magical number of parts—seven—so he might be more powerful than when his soul was split into eight. Harry reasoned that it would be less dangerous to get rid of Voldemort first to get him out of the way before attacking his horcruxes. Harry's thoughts drifted, wandering towards an uneasy sleep. His last thoughts were about Albus. Harry realized that Albus hadn't asked anything about his last name since the incident in the basement. Harry remembered accidentally letting his name slip to Voldemort who repeated it in front of Albus. Albus hadn't brought up the parseltongue either. His last comforting thought reassured him that it was a good thing that Albus wasn't prying anymore. It must mean Albus trusted him unquestioningly like he had Severus.

* * *

"_It's a little bit funny this feeling inside. I'm not one of those who can easily hide, oh I…don't have much money but, boy if I did. I'd buy a big house where we both could live…If I were a sculptor, but then again, NO…or a man who makes potions in a—"_

Harry waved his wand, silencing Elton John's tenor. He got up and went through his morning routine of showering, brushing his teeth, not brushing his hair, and dressing. He went straight to his office and summoned himself some food and a strong cup of tea there. He wanted to make sure his lesson plans for the day were in order.

He had a first year class in the morning, and in the afternoon there were a few batches of his most advanced students. He had a sixth year class, and a seventh year class. The sixth and seventh year students had already taken their O.W.L.s, had all achieved Exceeds Expectations or higher and elected to continue, so they were learning the most difficult magic.

Or they should have been.

Harry was filling in the gaps in their knowledge first. He was trying to expand their magical vocabularies before teaching them anything more difficult. They learned quickly, though, so he expected to move on soon.

He sipped his tea and looked up from the roll of parchment he was scrutinizing. His eyes landed on the score board. It read "Crockett: 4, Dumbledore: 6." He sighed.

He heard a clunk from the other room and decided the first years had probably arrived. He turned himself invisible and snuck through the door. The eight first years were sitting in a neat semicircle facing the white board. None of them noticed his entry. He smiled invisibly.

He levitated a bit of chalk and charmed it to write on the blackboard.

"_We're going for a walk today. Leave your wands and line up by the door."_

Harry was pleased to see that nobody got up or left their wands (though Umbridge began to stand up before one of her housemates pulled her back down). He made himself visible in front of the whiteboard.

"Well done. Now, really. We are going for a walk, but please do bring your wands." The class scrambled to their feet, chattering excitedly. Harry remembered that his first enjoyable defense against the dark arts class—the one with the boggart— had been one that began with a walk. Though Harry did have a boggart in store, he was saving it for some older students.

Harry led the class out of the classroom and to the entrance hall.

"By the way," said Harry, "I'm holding a running competition. I will award a small draft of liquid luck potion to anyone who manages to knock me to the ground. This is to help you hone your skills and learn to be unexpected. I'll tell the other classes, but I figured I should give you a head start. If you happen to succeed with the aid of accomplices, you can split the winnings. The potion, when drunk, will be enough to give you one perfect day. There are some rules about when you're allowed to take it, but don't worry about that now." The first years were chattering excitedly. Harry smiled.

He still had an obscenely large bottle of Felix potion from when he traveled back in time, and he thought that a contest would be a good way to get rid of it.

They descended the front steps of the castle and made their way to the largest part of the lawn.

"Circle up!" called Harry. "Ok, now, one at a time I'd like each of you to show me the sparks you've been working on for your signals for aid. I'll award five points to whoever can make their sparks stick the highest, five for whoever can keep them there the longest, and five to the loudest noise. Who would like to go first?"

Andromeda Black raised her hand.

"Ms. Black? Ok. Have a go, then."

Andromeda leaned back and held her wand behind her head like she was going to throw it into the air. She made a face of concentration, and then arced her wand over her head like a tennis server. A stream of red sparks erupted from her wand at the zenith of her arc with a bang. They continued floating up and then they stuck in the air at an impressive height.

The class clapped. "Well done, Ms. Black, well done. Who would like to follow that act?"

A Gryffindor girl who's name was Melinda Brown stepped forward.

"I will, sir."

"When you're ready, Ms. Brown," said Harry.

Melinda took a different tact than Andromeda had. She began frantically creating sparks in front of her, until there was a rather dense cloud at eye level. Then she pointed her wand at the cloud and shouted "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_The cloud drifted vaguely upward. Then, with equally frantic movement, she pointed the wand at her own neck and said "_Sonorus!"_ Her high pitched, wavering eleven year old voice had magnified, and she yelled "_HELP!"_as loud as she could.

The bundle of sparks floated to rest about ten yards in the air and began to float downward. "_HAAALP!"_she repeated, booming across the grounds and echoing off the stone walls of the castle.

"Thank you, Lav—er, Ms. Brown. That's enough."

"OK! OH NO! MAKE IT STOP," she blasted.

"The counter charm is '_Quietus!'"_said Harry, waving his wand quieting Melinda. "Now, that was interesting. Would you please explain to the rest of the class what you did?"

"Well," said Melinda, her normal volume, "I made the sparks and then used the levitation spell that we used in charms so that I could control them. Then I used the voice magnification spell that you used in your duel with Professor Dumbledore to make myself loud. I thought I could make it clearer that I was in trouble than if I used a bang."

"That was very creative—and I'm impressed that you managed a _sonorous _in your second week at school. Well done. But can anyone tell me some flaws in Melinda's plan?"

Umbridge raised her hand.

"Yes, Ms. Umbridge?"

"Well, it was a very foolish plan indeed because while she was wasting her time conjuring a cloud of sparks and doing all kinds of useless charms, if her attacker were in any way competent, she would have been killed."

"Hmm," frowned Harry. "I am going to give you one chance to rephrase that. Don't expect so much in the future."

"Well, if you didn't understand, I meant that only a moron would think they had enough time to—"

"That's quite enough, Ms. Umbridge. Ten points from Slytherin. Please apologize to Ms. Brown and learn to be kinder to your classmates."

Delores Jane Umbridge hesitated. Begrudgingly, she muttered, "Fine. Sorry," without looking at Melinda.

"Would anyone else like to answer my question nicely?"

A Slytherin boy raised his hand.

"Mr. Malcolm, yes?"

"Well, sir, it's true that if she were being attacked, she wouldn't have enough time to do all those spells," he said. "But the loud one was cool!" he added quickly, fearing Harry's wrath.

"That's right. And thank you for phrasing that nicely. I promise that each of you will make mistakes in this class. I don't want you to feel bad about these mistakes because they help you to learn and help everyone else in the class learn. To keep you comfortable enough to take risks and make mistakes, I want you all to stay positive and encouraging of each other. I will not tolerate rudeness and putdowns.

"Back to the spells, though. It's true that that was a more time consuming method. During class on Wednesday, I will be presenting you with a threat and you will have to send your signal before you become incapacitated.

"Can anyone else think of a reason why W_ingardium Leviosa _may not have been the most effective choice?"

Fabian and Gideon were whispering to each other. Fabian raised his hand.

"Fabian—May I call you that? I think that will be less confusing than 'Mr. Prewett.'"

"Yeah, that's fine," grinned Fabian. "How did you know which one I was? Our mother can hardly tell us apart."

"Trade secret," said Harry. In truth, he'd looked at the Marauder's map at the beginning of class and remembered which one was wearing which shirt.

When it became clear that Harry wasn't going to reveal any more, Fabian continued. "Right. Er, that spell only works while you're paying attention to it. We tried it with this big book and when it was over Trelawney's head we accidentally got distracted and it—" Gideon elbowed Fabian in the gut and he stopped talking.

Harry hid his smile. "That's correct. It wouldn't work if you were incapacitated. While her technique made a lot more sparks and sent a clearer message, the sparks wouldn't go up as high and would probably float back down. Who would like to go next? How about Ms. Umbridge."

The Prewett twins bit their lips to keep from laughing. Harry shot them a warning glance.

Umbridge waddled forward and took out her stumpy wand. With her nose in the air, she waved her wand above her head. A stream of red sparks shot out of the end with an accompanying pop. The sparks rose higher than Melinda's, but began to drop quickly. Umbridge saw them falling and waved her wand at them frantically trying to halt their downward motion, but ended up having to dance around to avoid being singed.

"Like I said," said Harry with a sigh as Umbridge tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground, "everyone messes up." Umbridge scrambled to her feet. "Does anyone have a suggestion for Ms. Umbridge about how to improve her signal?"

Melinda raised her hand. Harry hesitated. "Ms. Brown?"

"Well," said Melinda. Harry flinched in anticipation of whatever retaliation Melinda might take. "I think your sparks may have been too heavy and your noise could have been a little louder. It was more like a pop than a bang," she said, and then looked at Harry and smiled sappily. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Yes, I would agree, Ms. Brown. The sparks were a little too heavy to stick. For lighter sparks, try flicking your wand a little more rather than pointing it straight up. And for a louder noise, grip your wand a little tighter. I'm glad to see that you got rid of the pink sparks you were mixing with the red, though. Keep practicing. Who would like to go next?"

"May we go at the same time, sir?" asked Gideon.

"Hmm," said Harry. "I don't see why not. Might I ask why?"

"Well, sir," said Fabian enthusiastically, "We're doing the same thing, so the second one might be a wee bit…anticlimactic."

"Uh-oh," said Harry, smiling in anticipation and admiration for Fabian's use of the word "anticlimactic". "Alright, then."

The red haired twins grinned at each other and spaced themselves out about five yards. They locked eyes and started counting. "One…two…three!" They waved their wands like they were waving lassos, shouting "Help! We're being attacked!" and then thrust their wands into the air sharply, each sending out a rocket of sparks with a deafening bang. Above each of them floated a stationary firework display, but the spell didn't stop there. Each rocketing ball of fire split into pieces and as they split they broadcasted the twins' voices calling _"Help! We're being attacked!"_over and over.

The class and Harry burst into applause as the balls of jetting fire increased in number and raced around the campus, each ball continuing to belt "_Help! We're being attacked!" _The group all watched, admiring the twins' magic as it continued to multiply and spread, some balls even bouncing off the castle walls.

Well done, you two! I would _love _to hear how you learned—"

At that moment, Harry's wand flew out of his hand and Harry was blasted into the air. "_What—the—bloody—argh!" _cursed Harry as he started falling. He reached out for his magic to slow his descent, but his wand was gone. It was gone, along with his aura. It was too far away or hidden. Who could be attacking him? _Riddle,_ he thought.

He crashed into the grass with a groan. His glasses were broken. He squinted. Through the spider web of cracks he could make out a figure on a broom rapidly swooping towards him, dismounting, and then an Albus Dumbledore shaped man was directly in front of Harry with his wand jabbed threateningly over his heart. "Go back to the castle! Now!" Harry ordered the students dangerously.

"_Tom," _snarled Harry. He was enraged. He considered the possibility of another attack from Tom Riddle, but for him to show up with the polyjuiced appearance of Dumbledore was more than Harry could take lying down (so to speak). Harry was disgusted that Voldemort was befouling Albus's image. Clearly all he'd wanted was to sneak onto campus with a face everyone trusted—well, he'd blasted the wrong man.

Before the man pinning Harry to the ground could do anything, Harry punched him squarely in the nose, and knocked his wand out of his hand. Harry's attacker groaned, and Harry took the opportunity to flip them both over so that Harry was on top, pinning the man who looked like Albus to the ground. He reached out with his body aura to impede the other man's struggling movement.

Harry pulled his fist back for another punch and held it there. "Tom, you _really _don't know who you're messing with—and the Dumbledore disguise was really stomping on the dragon's eggs," said Harry dangerously. "I'm Dumbledore's man through and through and you are disgusting." Harry spat, and tightened his body aura's hold on that of the man beneath him. "You have only succeeded in royally pissing me off. Did you think this would work? Did you think I wouldn't recognize—that I—recognize—aura—" Harry stopped talking and his mouth fell open in horror. He hadn't even considered the possibility that it really was Albus; Albus trusted him implicitly. How could he—why would he—

Harry glanced around quickly and his fears were confirmed when he saw the elder wand lying on the ground a few paces away. He retracted his aura from the distinctly Dumbledoreish aura he'd been attacking and scrambled backward.

"Wand," croaked Albus, wincing through the stream of blood running thickly from his nose. His wand snapped to his hand.

"Ohhh Merlin," said Harry, scrambling backward, green eyes wide. "This is going to take some explaining."

Albus got to his feet and opened his mouth as if to speak, but winced and closed it again. He waved his wand and Harry shrunk back, but the spell only ceased the ambient chorus of bangs and "_Help! We're being attacked!_" Albus turned on his heel and strode back towards the castle.

The doors burst open and Minerva rushed out. "Albus! Albus! Crockett's students just found me! They said they were learning to signal for help and then they were—they—they were—" Minerva caught sight of Albus, his nose re-broken and his face covered in blood, and she stopped talking. She glanced behind him at Harry, who was propped on his elbows on the ground, wandless and grimacing. Her eyes widened.

"Not a word, Minerva," Albus said.

"Did you—"

"Not a word—"

"—think he—"

"Don't you—"

"—was attacking them? Harry beat you up?" A look of pure glee dawned on her face for a moment before Albus wiped it off completely with a very effective Bat Bogy hex. He strode past her into the castle and the door slammed behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Minerva pulled out her wand and vanished the bogies. She strode over to Harry.

"You aren't going to attack me, right?" she grinned. Harry picked up the broom Albus had forgotten on the ground in his haste.

"_Do _tell me what happened," she said. Harry explained it to her as they walked back up to the castle, only slightly less embarrassed that Albus.

"I can't believe he thought you were attacking the students. He's going to be beating himself up about this for weeks—of course, you helped beat him up too," she said, and laughed at her own joke. "Now, really, we have to go find your students before they start to think one or both of you loony old men is some sort of mad murder."

"I…I'm not old," was all Harry could manage.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter:**

**-Where the hell is Harry's wand?**

**-A new Herb teacher**


	20. Slipups

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Caleb. Caleb, if you get this far, I would like you to send me an email with the word "starfish" in it.**  
**My beta reader has gone criminally insane. Also, my arch nemesis has broken out of Azkaban and is terrorizing my territory. For the next five days, I will be traveling the lands searching for more suitable guards and may not be able to write as much. Of course, it's also possible that I'll end up publishing like…six chapters this week due to spikes in my magical energy.**  
**Holy crap I need a life.**  
**Review!**

* * *

Harry and Minerva found the eight first years milling around the entrance hall. They crowded around Harry and Minerva.

"Professor! What was that?"

"—Are you evil?"

"—Did Professor Dumbledore want the lucky potion?"

"—Is Professor Dumbledore evil?"

"I bet he heard our signal," grinned Fabian.

"So do _we _get the lucky potion?" asked Gideon.

"Quiet down," said Minerva.

"Why don't we go back to the classroom," said Harry. "I can take it from here, Minerva," said Harry quietly.

"You can take on Albus without a wand—I think you can handle a couple of first years."

"Uh-huh," said Harry, turning around and promptly tripping over a small foot and falling on his face.

"Mr. Prewett! That will be a detention! I have never seen—"

"It's alright, Minerva. I'm awarding a phial of Felix to anyone who can knock me to the ground. Clever of him to attack when I _don't have a wand_," Harry said, standing up and rounding on Fabian, who smiled sheepishly.

"_Reparo!"_said Minerva, pointing her wand at Harry's broken glasses. "So is Albus going to get lucky?" she asked, barely keeping the smile from her lips.

"_Really_, Minerva. I'm teaching right now," said Harry, mocking exasperation. "Let's go. Back to the bat cave, Robin!"

"_What?"_everyone chorused.

"Nothing, nothing…"

They went back to the classroom and Harry wrapped up the lesson without magic.

"Next class, be prepared to make your sparks under a threat! The people who didn't go today will go first on Wednesday! Have a nice lunch. Fabian, Gideon, would you please wait a moment after class. I'd like to speak with you."

The rest of the class filed out and the red haired twins stayed behind.

"I was extremely impressed with your work today, boys." _Even though it led bloody Albus Dumbledore to flip out and attack me,_he thought. "I will award each of you a small portion of Felix Felicis potion. I will give it to you next class." _I could give it to you now if I had my wand, _he thought. "And I was wondering if the two of you would be interested in learning some more advanced magic for extra credit?"

"_Wicked_," chorused the twins.

"Yes, then? Lovely. I'll have some new material for you next class. Enjoy your lunch."

The twins left grinning ear to ear, and Harry slunk back to his office. There was a piece of parchment on his desk. On it was a note scrawled in familiar loopy handwriting, but it took a moment longer than it should have for Harry to recognize it as Albus's. Harry sat down in his chair and picked it up. "Huh," Harry said aloud, noticing for the first time why Albus's handwriting seemed a little off. It was written in black ink rather than his characteristic green.

"_Harry,_

_Will you please join me in my office for lunch? I will return your wand._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus"_

"Right," said Harry out loud, frowning. He looked at his watch and decided to head upstairs. "Phoenix," he said as he reached the stone gargoyles. They leapt aside and Harry rode the stone escalator to Albus's office door and knocked.

"Come in," said Albus from within the office.

Harry entered. Albus was sitting behind his desk with his face resting on his hand. His other hand was gliding across a piece of parchment with an elegant eagle quill. He paused in his inking to gesture Harry over to coffee table, but didn't look up. A few moments passed. The only sound was Albus's quill. Harry was fidgeting nervously in his armchair. He jumped when one of the clocks chimed. Albus looked up at the noise and frowned, like it had interrupted something important. He stood up and trod pensively over to the chair facing Harry and sat down.

"Tea, Harry?" he asked softly.

"Please," said Harry, jumping on the normal conversation.

Albus poured Harry a cup and one for himself. Albus sipped his tea.

"May I have my wand back, sir?"

"Please don't call me sir, Crockett."

"Please don't call me Crockett, you classroom terrorist."

Harry glared over at Albus before spotting his nose and wincing. "Is your nose alright?"

"It's been broken before," said Albus darkly.

"I know but—" Albus looked at him sharply, his eyes narrow. Harry realized he'd mentioned one of those things he wasn't supposed to know about. Like Albus's death. And Albus's sister. And Albus's nose being broken at his sister's funeral. He covered it up quickly. "—But why on earth were _you _attacking _me_?"

"It is my duty to ensure the students' safety," replied Albus, not really answering Harry's question.

"You got the twins' distress call, eh?"

Albus nodded. Harry refrained from asking, _And why did you take it seriously?_

"It was rather ingenious, wasn't it," said Harry. Albus nodded and they sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

"I would like to review your lesson plans before you teach," said Albus abruptly. "I trust you understand."

"Ah, but clearly you don't trust _me_," said Harry, the weight of his own words crashing down on him.

"I value your talents enough not to any such thing."

"My talents. You value my talents." Harry found himself disproportionally hurt by the superficiality of the statement. Harry couldn't help but notice what things Albus didn't say he valued Harry for. Like friendship. And a competitive magical equal. And the kindred bond Harry had felt discovering that he and Albus shared so many unexpected passions in common. Maybe Harry'd just glommed onto the person he knew the best from his time and expected the familiarity to be mutual.

He bit his lip. "I will send up the plans with a house elf," said Harry, trying to hide his bitterness. "I would like my wand back, please."

"Ah, yes," said Albus, as if he'd forgotten that he was holding part of Harry's soul hostage. Albus stood up and turned his back to Harry, waved his wand and Harry's wand zoomed out from behind a three foot stack of books. Harry caught it, wondering why he hadn't sensed its presence in the room.

Albus started turning back around. "And now, Harry, would you like some lun—" but Harry was gone. Albus's mouth fell open and he fell into the chair behind him. He frowned and stirred sugar into his tea. After finishing his own tea, he picked up Harry's cup and tipped it from side to side, moving the tea about.

He put the cup down with a sigh and went back behind his desk. He sat down in his high backed chair, and ran his fingers over the piece of parchment he'd left there, tracing the wings of the detailed phoenix he'd drawn.

* * *

Harry appeared back in his office and collapsed onto his swivel chair.

Albus didn't trust him.

Harry felt like he'd felt when he lived at the Dursley's. He felt like there was no one for him to go to when he was hurt. Like there was no one for him to confide in who would care about Harry besides how well he did what he was asked. He'd been happy in the fifties knowing that the professors at Hogwarts were good people. He'd comforted himself with the memories of their kindness and loyalty, but had overlooked the possibility that they might see him as someone to protect against.

He picked up his lesson plans and refrained from crumpling them and throwing them against the wall. He duplicated them with his wand and put the originals aside. He composed himself and called "Roopie!"

With a crack, the house elf appeared in front of Harry.

"Hello, Roopie. Would you mind dropping these in Professor Dumbledore's office for me, please?"

"Yes, of course, kind Master Crockett."

"Please call me Harry," he said, and winced as it reminded him of his conversation with Albus.

"As you wish, sir, Master Harry, sir," said Roopie. Harry sighed as the elf took the stack of duplicated papers and disappeared.

Harry heard the door swing open from the other room and looked at his watch. His eyes widened. Lunch was over. He was surprised how sneakily the time had gone. He looked at his schedule briefly and did a double take.

It read _Sixth year: 1:00_

_Seventh year: 1:00_

Harry wondered how he'd missed that. He checked his roster and realized that there were only three sixth years, so the classes must have been combined. That suited Harry just fine.

He started the lesson how he started every lesson: invisibly. He snuck into the classroom unnoticed by the advanced students. He crept to the bottom of the stairs and levitated the chalk.

"_Welcome, post O.W.L. students, to Defense against the Dark Arts," _wrote Harry as he surveyed the classroom. Then he stopped.

"_Mr. Alastor Moody, what are you doing in this classroom? You are a fifth year, are you not?"_

"Well, sir," said Moody, turning around to look directly at the invisible Harry, "I have a free this block and I really like this subject. I was hoping to sit in?"

"_If you can keep up," _wrote Harry.

"I think the question will be whether we can keep up with him," grinned a sixth year boy. The seventh year Rufus Scrimgeour shot the sixth year a glare.

Harry kept himself from chuckling.

"_Your first challenge will be to find me (Professor Crockett, that is) and make me visible using the spells you know. I won't use magic. Work as a team. Go."_

Most of the students were standing and drawing out their wands, but Moody and Scrimgeour had both already lunged in Harry's direction casting spells. Harry had to dive to the side to avoid the jets of light. He regained his balance in time to see Algie Longbottom jumping in his direction. Harry dodged backward to avoid him, but slammed into a solid body. He felt a wand crack over his head and warmth spread over his body, turning him visible with an anti-disillusionment charm.

"Wow, brilliant," said Harry. "That was fast. So, how did you find me?"

"I heard you come in," said Moody, "and go down the stairs, but you didn't move from there until we attacked you."

"Indeed, and then how did you find me?"

Algie pointed at Harry's visible feet, grinning. Harry looked down to see that the souls of his shoes were covered in green paint. He followed a trail of footprints back to where he was originally standing.

"Well done! You used my trick against me. Mr. Moody, I'm impressed that you heard me in the first place. You are very," Harry smiled inwardly, "vigilant."

"I can stay then, sir?"

"I wouldn't dream of kicking you out. I'm afraid you might attack me in my sleep if I upset you," joked Harry.

He pressed on. "I would like to assess each of you individually. It seems we have the whole afternoon for this lesson, so we're going to take a trip to a more accommodating location. Follow me, please."

"Oh goodie, a field trip," said a seventh year girl sarcastically as they crowded out the door. A seventh year boy laughed. Harry turned around to glare at the girl, but found his mouth fall open. She looked exactly like Cho Chang. He closed his mouth quickly.

"You can have your test first, Ms…"

"Aiko Edwards," she said. "I'd be glad to."

"Oooooh," said the boy. "Teacher's pet," he muttered.

"And you can go after her, Mr…"

"Chang. Li Chang."

"Ohh, I get it," said Harry, realizing that these must be Cho Chang's parents.

"Get what?" asked Aiko.

"Oh, nothing," said Harry with a wink. He could almost feel the heat of Aiko's blush from behind him as he turned around to lead the students to the seventh floor. He'd thought ahead, quite literally, and the door to the room of requirement stood waiting for the class. "This will do," he said, pushing the door open and allowing the students to file in front of him.

"Coulda sworn this door wasn't here…" muttered Moody as he passed.

Harry followed them inside and the door swung shut with a solid clunk. The lights rose and the students looked onto the room in appreciation. There was a circular arena sunk into the room in front of them. Through the center of it ran the moon patterns of a dueling rectangle, and around the edges of the arena were benches for spectators.

"Huh. Cool," said Harry. "Ok. Circle around. Take a seat," he said, descending to the center of the pit. The nine students perched themselves on the benches. "I have many tests to administer around the use of specific important spells, but today I will be testing you on how well you can use your magical vocabulary under pressure. I'm testing how well you can react when threatened. Ms. Edwards has volunteered to go first."

"Go Aiko!" cheered Li Chang, a little too enthusiastically. Aiko grinned at him, and then glanced at Harry and blushed. Harry mentally smacked his forehead. _I shouldn't have winked._

"Right," said Harry, "I'm going to conjure a rather nasty opponent, and your job is to kill or get rid of it. Go on down into the pit."

Aiko descended, looking confident.

"Ok, ready?" asked Harry. Aiko nodded. Harry flicked his wand, and out of the end shot a thick green snake, at least eight inches in diameter and fifteen feet long. It reared back, barring its great fangs.

"_Don't bite her," _muttered Harry.

"_Yeah, yeah," _replied the snake. It stood with its head six feet off the ground, towering over Aiko, hissing.

"_Diffindo!"_cried Aiko, trying to sever the serpent's head, but the spell bounced off the thick scales. The snake's tale whipped around and knocked her off her feet. She fell hard, but managed to keep her wand in hand.

"_Stupify!"_she called from the ground, but the effect was the same. The great snake began to wrap itself around her legs.

"_Immobulus!_" The spell bounded off and hit Aiko, paralyzing her. The snake continued to wrap around the helpless Aiko.

"_That's enough for now, thank you,_" said Harry to the snake, which sighed, rolled its great slit eyes, and began to uncoil itself from around Aiko.

"_Right.—er _right," said Harry, unfreezing Aiko with a wave of his wand. "That didn't work, but I'm impressed with the rapidity of your spells. Hmm…Since we have this nice fellow here already," Harry gestured at the snake, "would anyone else like a go? How about you, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Sure thing, sir," said Algie Longbottom, eagerly stepping into the ring.

"Go ahead, then," said Harry, and nodded to the snake. Immediately, it resumed its undulating attack pattern. Algie didn't begin firing spells at the serpent. Instead, he conjured a heavy looking sword. With precision and concentration, he hurled the sword through the air and—Harry was grinning even before it happened—sliced the snake's head clean off.

"How was that, sir?" asked Longbottom, as the head hit the ground with a clunk, followed by the massive body.

"I always _did _think that was the best way of killing a giant snake," grinned Harry.

"You've killed giant snakes before?"

"Fawkes and I took out a basilisk once with a sword," said Harry, "and a very close friend of mine, Neville, beheaded this rather horrible possessed snake with a sword. The same sword, actually," mused Harry.

"This sword?" asked Tiberius Ogden, awed.

Harry snapped out of his daydream. "Er, no, love, Longbottom just conjured that."

A chubby girl who hadn't spoken yet raised her hand tentatively. "Sorry, sir, but what's a basilisk?"

"Pamona, why are you even taking this class?" asked Barty Crouch Sr, scoffing her question.

"Well, I needed to take at least two classes besides herbology so I sort of closed my eyes and pointed…"

"Mr. Crouch," said Harry, making a show of ignoring Sprout, "she is clearly here because she wants to learn, which is probably why she asked the question. Do _you_know what a basilisk is?"

"It's…it's a snake, obviously," said Crouch.

"And how does it kill most effectively?"

"With…with its teeth, sir."

"Hmm," said Harry. "This goes to show why questions are very helpful, and putting down questions is counterproductive. There will be something of which each of you will undoubtedly be ignorant. I'm sure I'll even learn new things in this class. I certainly learned something in my first year class this morning…"

The class laughed.

"Oh, you heard about that? Ah, Hogwarts. No secrets."

"Sir, I thought you didn't go to Hog—"

"Can anyone else tell me more about basilisks? Mr. Black?"

"Yeah! They're born from a chicken egg or something and if you see its eyes you die."

Some of the students in the class laughed. "Very good, Mr. Black," said Harry to the laughing students' surprise. "It's born from a chicken egg hatched under a toad. Spiders flee from it. The crow of the rooster is fatal to it," paraphrased Harry. "Its venom is deadly, but more dangerous are its eyes. If you meet its glance directly, it will kill you. If you see it through a mirror or lens or even a ghost, you will be petrified. Can anyone tell me how to cure petrifaction? Yes, Ms. Sprout?"

"Mandrake Restorative Draft, sir. It's stewed from Mandrake root."

"Indeed. I see you're good at herbology." Pomona Sprout blushed as some students next to her nodded vigorously.

"That's about the only thing she's good at," muttered Barty Crouch.

"Mr. Crouch has just volunteered to go next! Into the ring, then," said Harry, irritated. Barty looked like he was going to protest, but instead dropped into the ring, straightening his tie.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

Harry closed his eyes for a minute, imaging what he was about to conjure, reaching back into his memory for when he'd last seen one…and then flicked his wand at the ring.

Thick green vines of Devil's Snare filled the pit on all sides of Barty. They writhed and before Barty could react, they'd already begun to wrap around his ankles.

"_Diffindo!_" he called, severing a few of the vines, but the Devil's Snare only began to work faster. It had engulfed him up to his waist and began to wrap around his arms. He dropped his wand into the tangling mass leaving him helpless. He cried out in desperation.

Harry sighed.

"Ms. Sprout?"

"I'm on it, professor," she said and hopped into the fray, her wand tip already beginning to glow with light and flame. Within seconds she'd systematically spread flame throughout the writhing plant and it had begun to slacken its grip on Crouch. It shrunk down until all that was left were a few cutlets twitching feebly on the ground. Barty was gasping dramatically for air as Sprout handed him back his wand.

"Professor, can I keep some of these cutlets for study?"

"Hmm," said Harry. "Those are very dangerous. While I am fairly sure that you are currently the best herbologist in the castle I—oh, Merlin, I've just had a fantastic idea. I'll be right back. Will you please explain to the rest of the group about this plant while I'm gone? Don't let it strangle any of you. Great. Thanks."

Harry dove out of the room, leaving the class glancing at each other curiously.

Harry tore down the hall of the seventh floor and whizzed past the gargoyle just slow enough to blurt "phoenix!" as he passed. He ascended the staircase and was soon pounding on Albus's door.

"Albus!" _Pound pound pound. _"I've found a new—argh!" he said as the door swung open and he fell into the room.

"Yes?"

"I've found a new herbology teacher! Professor Sp—I mean Ms. Sprout is in her seventh year and fully competent. I believe I would be correct in saying her life's ambition is to continue her study of herbology and what better way to do it than with a teaching position here with unlimited resources."

"That's wonder—"

"I know Dippet told Tom Riddle he was too young when he applied the first time when he was right out of school, but he'd psychotic and _really kinky _and I thought that because you let Hagrid be game keeper when he was wrongly expelled for opening the Chamber of Secrets in his third year that you wouldn't care if someone was too young."

"Harry I—"

"Well, as long as they were knowledgeable and eager and not trying to force any sort of _Greater Good _on the world—oh Merlin I did it again. Damnit! Anyway, think about it. I'm in class. Bye." He fell through the wall behind him and sped back to the Room of Requirement.

Albus had to relive the memory four times in his pensive before he could even figure out what exactly Harry had said, but understanding him only raised more questions. The only question he had a satisfying answer to was "who will teach herbology?"

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so I'm doing a lot of setup for the plotage that I have coming…It's coming, I promise.**

**ALSO, I've posted the student roster on my profile page. It's not complete, but it'll give you an idea who's in each grade and how we know them, if you want. I may have posted Harry's schedule too…If I haven't, it will be up soon.**

**Review!**

**-Moonlight**


	21. Losing It

**A/N: For those of you who asked, according to the Lexicon, Ted Tonks is muggleborn, not a muggle. I, too, thought he was a muggle, but the lexicon said otherwise and I wasn't going to argue if it meant I could have another cannon name.**

**On an unrelated note, there are Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to the first year DADA classes as well as G's and S's. So. Don't be confused when you see "Amos Diggory" (who is H-Puff) in the DADA class.  
And on with the show.  
Read, review.**

There was a knock on Harry's office door on Wednesday morning. Harry looked up from the letter he was reading and quickly determined who was outside the door with a glance at the Map before calling, "come in, Ms. Sprout."

Pomona Sprout shuffled in with an expression that clearly read "_I know you better than to ask how you knew it was me outside."_

"What can I do for you?" asked Harry, pretending he didn't know the answer.

Pomona grimaced. "Professor, I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to drop your class. I didn't think I was going to enjoy it but I really, really was and you're a great teacher and I would have loved it but I'm not going to have time anymore with—because of—I'm sorry—I've got--"

"Congratulations on your new job, Professor," said Harry.

Pomona stopped blithering. "Oh, goodness, you heard about that?"

"No. I didn't hear that you got it. It was my idea, though, so I guessed."

Pomona turned scarlet. "You recommended me to Professor Dumbledore? Thank you! It's always been my dream to teach herbology at Hogwarts. I know it sounds selfish, but I was disappointed when Wister was hired—he was so young. I thought it would be ages before they needed to replace him and I'd never get a shot. But—Thank you sir!"

"You're welcome. Also, please call me Harry. We are colleagues." Pomona turned redder, but nodded. "Did you get your schedule yet?"

She nodded again and pulled a piece of parchment out of her robe pocket and handed it to Harry who examined it.

"Ahh, you are lucky to have your seventh years on Friday afternoons. I have second years—they're a wreck. I missed last Friday, but I know enough not to look forward to this week's…And you've got separate classes for your sixth and seventh years. That's better for herbology—there are more different things to learn. Defense against the Dark Arts is mostly practice practice practice—it doesn't really matter what level you're practicing," Harry rambled. "Have you got anything planned for your first lessons?"

"Yes!" she beamed. "I do love the mandrakes and the venomous tentactula. I was thinking about using the Snare cuttings you gave me for a lesson. I think that would be more like 'defense against the scary plants,' though. Hey! Would you, er…" she paused, bashful of her sudden enthusiasm.

"Yes," Harry encouraged.

"Would you like to do one of those things—like you did with Professor Dumbledore—but with plants? A defense against the plants demonstration for the school?"

"I could help you with that, yeah," said Harry, interested. "When?"

"I—I'll go talk to Professor Dumbledore about it."

"Great, um," said Harry. "Good luck!" he called after her as she bounded out the door, her pigtails swinging behind her.

The office was notably quiet.

Harry pursed his lips and looked back down to the letter he was reading.

"_Mr. Crockett,_

_We have located the individual you were looking for. He has, like you said, the nose of a snake. He is residing at number 12 Grimmauld Place with Mr. and Mrs. Orion and Walburga Black. They are also being visited by Mrs. Black's brother Cygnus and his wife Druella, and their six and two year old daughters Bellatrix and Narcissa. Our sources tell us they have a third daughter, Andromeda, at Hogwarts in her first year, but she is not currently in the house of Black. Also in the house is a servant—we believe he is called Bloom, but he is rarely spoken to directly, so we cannot be sure._

"_Thank you for your business and good luck in your endeavor,_

"_Discretely,_

"_--"_

The place for a signature was left conspicuously and dramatically blank, which suited Harry. The letter was from one of Harry's more sketchy and secretive business connections, and Harry didn't want to risk someone like Albus finding the letter and becoming suspicious (or, in the specific case of Albus, more suspicious). Harry was grateful for the connection, however. It takes sketchy people to find sketchy people, he reasoned, and Lord Voldemort and his associates were sketchy indeed.

So Harry knew where Voldemort was hiding. Next, he had to come up with a plan for attack, but first—he had class. He scooped up two phials of Felix from his desk and swept into the classroom.

"Mr. Prewetts?" he asked, finding the redheads. "Here are your prizes. They are not to be used for any sports or tests or competitions. I will know if you've used them." He handed them the Felix and they grinned mischievously at each other. "For the rest of the class, we're going to a different room. Hopefully I won't get attacked."

Some of the first years giggled, and Harry led them out of the classroom and up to the Room of Requirement.

When they entered, the room was different than it had been for the seventh years. It was dark, and seemed very small except that the opposite wall didn't go up all the way to the high ceiling.

"Brilliant," said Harry. He turned to the class. "Here we have a maze. One entrance is there, to your right. The other is to the left. I suspect there will be some sort of obstacles—_"_

"You suspect? Didn't you set it up?" interrupted Umbridge.

Harry winked at her and continued. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shrink behind another student.

"Two of you will go in at a time: one in each entrance. Your goal is not so much to reach the other end, but to not get stuck in the middle without help. If you run into a threat you don't think you can take on, send up sparks and I'll come to your aid. Try to defend yourself or fight once you've sent up the sparks. Whatever you do, don't get stuck without having called for help. Any questions?"

"Are you trying to kill us, sir?" asked Gideon.

"I would _never_try to kill _you_ Gideon," he replied, and glanced mischievously over at Umbridge.

Albus wanted his broom back. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten it on the grounds after he'd attacked Harry. Well, he was Albus Dumbledore. It happened; therefore he could believe it. What he was more interested in, though, was how distracted he'd been. He'd been so distracted that he left his broom. Albus was not an absentminded man.

So before lunch started he decided to take a stroll down the lawn to find his broom. Then, he would take his broom and fly to the Three Broomsticks, or the Hog's Head if he was feeling up to dealing with his brother, and buy himself a stiff drink.

This is not what happened.

Albus made his way towards the edge of the forest, but before he even got close, he could tell that there was nothing on the lawn. His broom was gone.

But he was Albus Dumbledore and gave people the benefit of the doubt. No one _stole_ his broom. Minerva was a kind and thoughtful person (when she wasn't covering her bitter scorned love with homosexual innuendo). She must have taken the broom from the lawn for him, and forgotten to return it. He certainly didn't picture the broom being added to a shrine to him. Albus turned on his booted heel and marched back up to the castle.

He could have waited until he saw Minerva at lunch to ask her for his broom, but instead he decided to find her in class. He knew it was a little rude to interrupt a lesson, but he would be forgiven. Though he gave people the benefit of the doubt, he was still anxious to find his broom.

So he made his way to the corridor outside the transfiguration classroom. He listened briefly at the door. He knocked lightly and didn't wait for a response before opening it and sliding quietly into the room. His discretion wasn't necessary, of course. The classroom was alive with a chorus of noises from animals and small pops as they turned into inanimate objects. Minerva, who hadn't yet developed her keen awareness of everything in a room, was unaware of Albus's entrance. She was leaning over a table redirecting some fourth year students who were having trouble changing their jarred fireflies into light bulbs.

"Mr. Meadows, enunciate the incantation. Thicknesse, stop sending spells at Ms. Rosmerta."

Albus walked up to stand behind Minerva and looked over her shoulder at the boys' work.

"I would suggest making your wand movements a little larger," he commented evenly.

Minerva straightened in surprise, knocking flat against Albus. Albus grabbed the crooks of Minerva's elbows to keep from falling backwards.

"I apologize, Minerva. I was under the impression you knew I was there," he said, his mouth inadvertently close to her ear. She shivered and he let go of her elbows. He took a step back.

"Excuse me," she said to her students, and turned to face Albus. Her youthful face showed her blush well. "I assume you're here for a reason other than to offer transfiguration advice? Maybe you think I'm attacking my students?"

Albus didn't flinch. He knew Minerva made the jibe to appear to have the upper hand in her classroom. He had taken her off guard.

Albus cast a subtle spell to make sure the students around them were disinterested in their conversation before speaking.

"Is my broomstick currently in your possession, Minerva? May I have it back, please?"

"No, Albus. No it's not. This couldn't have waited ten minutes for lunch?"

Albus frowned.

"Do you know where it is?"

"Crockett has it," said Minerva, dryly. "Ooh, are you going to interrupt his class? Can I watch?"

Albus refrained from turning Minerva into a badger.

"I'm going to lunch, now, Minerva. Thank you for the information. Have a nice class."

Minerva smirked through her fading blush and did not turn Albus into a turkey as he swept briskly from the room.

Harry was creatively rescuing the last first year (Amos Diggory) from the attack of an enchanted bookshelf that was shooting paperbacks at him.

"Try this spell," called Harry. _"Protego!"_

A shield rose between Harry and a flying book.

"_Protego!"_called Amos, his voice trembling slightly. The next book that approached him slowed down slightly before hitting him in the thigh.

"Almost!" said Harry, deflecting another book. "That was pretty good for a first time. Are you ready to get out of here?" Amos nodded. Harry immobilized the bookshelf and thought quickly, _I need a room without a maze. I need a room to talk with my students before we leave. I need to not be in a maze._The maze vanished and student and teacher found themselves a few yards from the rest of the class.

"Good work," he said to the class. "You understand that it's more difficult to act under a threat. Your homework—Hmm," said Harry, stopping abruptly as he felt a magical alarm go off in his head. "_Someone _is trying to break into my office. Shall we see who it is?" The Prewett twins grinned.

Harry closed his eyes and thought, _I need this door to come out across from my office. I need this door to open in front of my office. I need to go straight from this room to my office._"Check this out, guys."

He crossed the room, drawing his wand, and opened the door.

"_Petrificus totalus!"_ he cried, pointing his wand at the back of the tall, auburn haired— "Crap!"

Albus spun around, taking the spell in the chest. His arms snapped to his sides and his legs snapped together before he tipped dangerously sideways. Harry lunged and caught him. Harry wasn't sure if Albus freed himself with a wordless spell or if Harry's touch freed him, but Albus's body was soft and mobile again when its weight landed in Harry's arms.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" hyperventilated Harry, gripping Albus.

"May—I stand up—please, Harry?"

"Albus! I'm sorry, I—oh, yes, of course," he said, letting go of Albus and pushing him slightly to his feet. Albus subtly stepped backward slightly.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir! Why were you breaking into Professor Crockett's office, sir?"

"He's breaking in because Professor Crockett is evil! I bet he thinks he's attacking us!"

"No! Professor Crockett isn't evil—It's Dumbledore—er, Professor Dumbledore, that is. He's evil! Didn't you see—"

"Or maybe Professor Crockett borrowed something from Professor Dumbledore and now he wants it back," said Albus, quieting the first years. Mostly.

"No! That's stupid," said Gideon. "Why would he do that?"

"Right!" continued Fabian, "It's actually that they're scheming together to turn everyone in Hogwarts into ferrets—"

Harry rounded on the twins with comically menacing eyes. "We wouldn't need to scheme if we were going to turn everyone in Hogwarts into ferrets. We would just do it and congratulate each other on it later." He turned to the rest of the class. "Your homework is to continue practicing your signals, and perhaps write me a twenty centimeter essay explaining your favorite way to prevent a mass ferret transformation. Now you're free. Go away," said Harry, rolling his eyes.

The first years giggled nervously and scampered off to lunch. Fabian and Gideon turned around like they were going to go back into the Room of Requirement, but the door had vanished. They looked questioningly at Harry who raised an eyebrow. _"Lunch"_he mouthed. They got the hint and hurried off down the hall, whispering excitedly.

Harry pursed his lips and turned back to Albus. "So, Albus, which one of us is evil?"

He didn't answer. Harry got the impression the question wasn't irrelevant enough to be funny.

"Do you have my broomstick, Harry?"

"Oh!" Harry said, whacking himself in the forehead. "Yeah, I picked it up the other day after…um, yes. I have it."

"May I…have it back, please?"

"Yes," said Harry. "It's in my quarters. I'm going up to get my broom for the flight lesson during lunch. Do you need it before then, or can I give it back this afternoon?"

"I can come out to the stadium to get it," replied Albus quietly.

"I'm not going to attack your students! You don't have to come to my class!" said Harry, finally showing his frustration for Albus's lack of trust.

"I didn't suggest that you were. I merely thought it would be more convenient for you if I met you there," he said, as close to a hurt snap as Harry had ever heard from Albus Dumbledore.

"Oh," said Harry weakly. A stone hand gripped his chest. "Yeah alrigh—"

"I'm going to lunch; I will see you in an hour," said Albus in a voice much colder than it ever was in Harry's time. Albus turned abruptly out of the conversation and walked in the wrong direction for lunch. If Harry hadn't been so stunned, he might have noticed that the Albus of the fifties was much more candid with his emotions than he would be in the nineties.

**A/N:**

**Next chapter: Something seems amiss with Albus's broom!**

***kiss kiss* R/R**

**-Moonlight**


	22. Confident

**A/N: Thanks for the double review, Shadow. It's the reason I finally posted tonight.****Enjoy.**

Harry was putting around his bedroom picking things up and putting them back. He tried to eat a lemon drop but the taste bothered him for some reason so he spit it out and threw it away.

The record player turned on.

"_Modern love, gets me to the church on time,__church on time, terrifies me,__church on time, makes me party,__church on time, puts my trust in God and man,"_ sang David Bowie.

"Late?" Harry guessed.

The record player shut off.

Harry picked up his own broomstick. "Urgh!" he smacked his forehead. It was black with lightening! That broom hadn't been invented. Harry really needed to stop drawing attention to himself.

With a magical thought, he changed his broom to have the exterior or a silver arrow. It still had the same speed and agility, but now it looked just like any other silver arrow.

He picked up Albus's silver arrow and launched himself out the open window, getting his broom beneath him just in time to soar away to the stadium. Fawkes leapt off his perch and followed Harry. Harry landed lightly next to the broom closet and opened it with a spell. He levitated all of the brooms and took off again with them trailing behind him. Fawkes perched himself on a broom and rode for a while, twittering at the novelty.

They swooped over the stands and landed in front of a knot of first years. Harry banished the brooms into a line, and tossed his own and Albus' aside.

"Afternoon!" Harry called, more cheerful than he felt.

"Good afternoon Professor Crockett," chanted the class.

"Ok, now how many of you have ridden a broom?"

Andromeda Black, Amos Diggory, and the Prewett twins raised their hands. Ted Tonks, and Trelawney did not. A few Slytherins raised their hands. Umbridge raised her hand hesitantly, only after looking around and seeing who else had raised their hands.

"Ok, so everyone who has ridden a broom, please go to the end of the line over there. The others, pick the brooms over here closer to me."

Umbridge made to join the group who had ridden brooms. "Ms. Umbridge," called Harry, "I want you over here, please. You'd be more embarrassed if you fell off your broom and hurt yourself than you'll be if your classmates find out you haven't ridden a broom."

"Nobody falls off their brooms. Only idiots fall off their brooms. I'm not going to fall off my broom."

"One of the most successful wizards I know fell off his broom the first time he flew. He broke his wrist. Later in life he helped defeat a dark wizard and he beheaded a giant possessed snake. He got married to the keeper of a very famous inn and taught his favorite subject at a magical school. He was good looking too…Anyway, better safe than sorry, pardon my cliché.

"Right, now everyone stand over their brooms and say 'up!' Make sure you say it with confidence. This is the first test to see how well you command your broom. Go ahead."

The class walked up to their brooms with various levels of confidence. The experienced fliers had the least trouble getting their brooms to rise to their hands. Ted Tonks, a muggleborn who had never ridden a broom, made his command with enthusiasm and his broom responded by snapping quickly to his grip. Umbridge managed; her tone was one of misguided confidence and her broom rose to her waiting fist like it was traveling through syrup rather than air.

Harry walked up and down the line giving people pointers. He reached the experienced end of the line there was a small girl who had never spoken up in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Her hand rested aloft the best of the school brooms (a Silver Arrow). Her confidence and comfort stood out in this class where it did not in his other classes. Her hawk like eyes swept over the other students and focused on Harry as he approached. She waited for him to speak, knowing he could only praise her perfect poise.

"I have a feeling I'm not going to have to supervise you as much, Ms. Hooch," said Harry.

She gave him a half smile.

"Alright!" said Harry, as he strode back down towards the inexperienced end of the line. "Mount your brooms. By that, I mean put one leg on each side-- Well, then you shouldn't have worn a skirt, should you Ms. Trelawney." The other girls glanced around and pulled their robes tighter around themselves.

"Professor Crockett," said Sybil Trelawney, "I prefer magic that's more grounded to earth, sir."

"Sure you do," said Harry, refraining from rolling his eyes. "But we all do things we don't like to do. Personally, I loathed the study of Divination as a child, but I had to take it anyway."

She made an offended clucking sound in the back of her throat that Harry only heard due to his enhanced hearing.

"I can change your skirt into a pair of trousers, if that would make you more comfortable."

She looked horrified. _"Fifties,"_muttered Harry. Harry flicked his wand unnecessarily and a Hogwarts robe appeared over Trelawney's other clothes.

"One day women will begin to wear trousers, and won't want to stop."

They all laughed.

"Personally," said a deep voice from behind Harry, "I think men should start wearing skirts." The class laughed and Harry turned to see the speaker.

"Welcome to Flying 101, Albus. _Thank you_ for coming. Would you care for a refreshment for your trouble?"

"_I_would like a refreshment," piped Fabian.

"Really?" asked Harry. Fabian nodded enthusiastically. "Here's a refreshment that quidditch players get a lot."

Harry pointed his wand above Fabian and cast a wandless spell. A deluge of water began dumping itself out of nowhere onto Fabian, who made a high pitched shriek and then began laughing boisterously. Gideon somehow found himself under the stream as well.

"Would you care for some hail with that, sir?" asked Harry. Harry rolled his eyes, waved his wand, and the deluge stopped. The twins' clothes were immediately dry.

"I prefer the lightening," said Albus. Harry found himself hoping he heard a trace of a twinkle in Albus's voice and that it wasn't sarcasm. He had a feeling Albus's intelligence transcended the use of sarcasm.

"Right, so you're going to go one at a time. I don't need you all zooming out of control in different directions. Let's start with Ms. Trelawney. Mount your broom. I'm _not_going to look up your skirt, you silly girl," he told her as she bustled to pull her robes as tight as possible. "Here," said Harry, exasperated. "_Oscurro!_That will make sure no one can see. Now, please. Mount your broom. Not quite. Move your hands a little higher so that you don't slip off the end. You're _not_going to slip off the end!"

"You said you didn't like divination," said Albus.

"I have a rather clear view of the present and past and future," said Harry offhandedly. "It has nothing to do with divination. Now, Ms. Ariana—Trelawney, sorry. Hold on with your knees."

If Harry had turned around, he would have seen Albus looking stricken. So he didn't turn around.

"Your broom's over there," Harry gestured desperately. He threw up as much occulumency as possible on his auras so that they were numb to him and anyone else who was poking around.

"Thank you," said Albus quietly.

"Why didn't I get a bloody tact aura," muttered Harry inaudibly. "Right, on my count kick off from the ground. Ready? One, two, three!"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dumbledore snatch up a broom and takeoff in the direction of Hogsmeade. He turned back just in time to see Trelawney slipping dangerously towards the end of her tilting broom.

"Hold on!" said Harry, reaching up to level the broom. As he helped Trelawney back to the ground, he made a mental note to deposit some of his less explainable memories in his pensive.

Once Trelawney was back on the ground (though she had only risen about four feet), Harry decided he needed to demonstrate flying first. Trial and error wasn't going to work for such inexperienced students like Trelawney and Umbridge.

"Ok, I'm going to demonstrate some of the essentials." He went to retrieve his broom. He picked it up and felt anticipation shoot through his body. He looked forward to being in the air after his interaction with Albus. He would leave his troubles on the ground.

Albus picked up the Silver Arrow and took off, hoping to find a massive glass of fire whiskey to compromise his cumbersome intellect. Generally he saved his drinking for parties where a little color on his cheeks might be fun, or for quiet evenings with a book. As a rule, he was not a stress drinker. But as a rule, Albus Dumbledore was not a stressed person. He had the job he had always wanted, he was respected among the wizarding community, and he had enough brain and magic power to solve all the problems he wanted.

But he'd come across a problem he couldn't solve, and it kept getting bigger. Every day Harry gave him more peeks at the puzzle, but it was as though he were looking at the puzzle through a microscope. And there were only three pieces. And he was ten feet away from the microscope.

As he sped along with the new powers Harry had given his broom, he tried to piece together what he knew.

Harry's soul was split into seven parts.

Harry knew Albus's past better than he'd told anyone, present oddly well, and future to an undeterminable accuracy.

Harry knew Tom Riddle.

From the minute Harry met Albus, he spoke to him with an uncanny familiarity; a lot of the time Albus felt like he was talking to someone he'd talked to but clearly didn't remember.

Harry hadn't gone to Hogwarts, but Albus suspected Harry knew more about it than Albus did.

Harry was the most powerful wizard Albus had ever met, Gellert not withstanding.

Albus was inexplicably drawn to him.

And that was a piece of the puzzle, too.

And then Albus nearly fell off the broom in shock.

From between his legs he felt an overwhelming sense of heady confidence that was not his own. It was not his own, but he felt it beginning to effect his own emotions, changing them. He felt some of his own memories of confidence slide to the front of his mind.

_He made it on the Quidditch team—the youngest player for centuries._

_He was the top of his class—acing all of their mundane first year tasks._

_He was looking at his twelve outstanding owls._

_He was sending an owl off to Gellert, confident the sandy haired man would appear in his bedroom only moments later._

He dove towards the ground. He leapt off his broom and landed hard on the uneven ground. His glasses fell off and shattered on a rock. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the broom, his memories still racing. He tried to put up mental blocks and occlumency walls, but the aura was too strong.

_And then Gellert was whispering in his ear. There were secret plans for the world and secret plans for their night. Albus shivered at the breath on his ear, but grinned inwardly at his own cleverness._

And he pointed his wand at the broom before him and conjured to his mind the most potent spell he could think of.

_He was on his back, but still in total control of the sandy haired man above him. He quietly manipulated the man's facial expressions with subtle changes of posture: without moving, Albus could make this man do whatever he wanted. He could and he did._

And Albus let out a strangled cry as he cast the spell. He cried out in exasperation and pain and fear and something he didn't want to recognize.

As the broom shattered in the beam of light, Albus cried out the only puzzle piece he hadn't examined.

He cried out.

"_Harry Potter!"_

**A/N: Next Chapter: *Gasp* what will happen to Harry's soul? What will Albus dooo?**

**Review lots! Please.**

**(Happy full moon)**

**-Moonbeam**


	23. Burning

**A/N: I cried while I wrote the second half of this chapter, but that probably had more to do with the fact that I was listening to the Rent soundtrack. Sorry it took so long. There was a…line—just one line—where I got stuck. See if you can figure out where it was. Also…don't kill me when you read the last part…**

**My beta is at a snow flake tasting conference in Dallas and couldn't edit.**

_Last Chapter:__  
__As the broom shattered in the beam of light, Albus cried out the only puzzle piece he hadn't examined._

_He cried out._

"_Harry Potter!"_

As he anticipated, Harry left his troubles behind him on the ground. Soon the students were but specks. He knew it was a little irresponsible to do some joy flying in the middle of a lesson, but his flying was impressive enough that no one would mind. He relaxed his mind, letting himself feel his pride in his flying through his broom—his aura—but it felt distant. The pride and ego he felt wasn't from the broom supporting him between his legs. It wasn't speeding him through the air. No. His confidence was…far away…muted.

Before Harry could panic, he felt his aura tangling with someone else's and images began to flash through his mind.

_He felt joy and pride as he was announced to be on the Quidditch team as a first year…only …when he looked around, the uniforms the players were wearing were different somehow. They were older. Historic uniforms._

The image changed.

_He was being commended by his teachers. Teachers he didn't recognize._

_He was opening his owls to see that he'd aced all twelve of them_. Harry hadn't aced twelve owls.

_He was writing a letter in tall loopy writing, feeling a leaping in his chest and a heady excitement. The letter started with "Gellert," and ended with "Albus."_

Harry realized what had happened and tried to pull out of Albus's mind, but the contact between the broom and Albus had gone on too long. They were still touching. Harry could feel Albus's panic and both of their panics bound them together all the more.

_And then the sandy haired man Harry had read and heard about was whispering in his ear. He whispered secrets plans for the world and secret plans for their time together. Harry felt himself shiver at the breath on his ear and felt his heart beat faster with an emotion that was not his own._

Harry was sickened with the violation he was involuntarily committing, but he was trapped watching with fixed horror by the images that presented themselves to him next. He wasn't horrified by the images themselves, but by how little right he had to them. He kept fighting to remove himself from the visions—to shut his eyes, anything, but he only succeeded in shooting off on his broom out of the stadium.

_Then he was on his back, but still felt totally in control of the sandy haired man above him. He knew he was quietly manipulating the man's facial expressions with subtle changes of posture; without moving, Harry could make him scream._

And Harry screamed and his insides lurched with the feeling of falling, for he was falling. But he felt like he had lost something, and a stabbing longing overwhelmed him. He felt himself searching. He felt a hole within himself and he felt out of place.

And then he felt most of his bones breaking as he impacted with the ground.

Through his searing pain, he thought he heard someone screaming his name…his whole name…his abandoned, secret name…and then he felt no more.

Or rather, he was gone from his broken body.

He was flying through the air on the red wings of another. He was concerned for the broken, black haired figure below him, but he knew he didn't have time for that. He had to fill the hole in his being. He had to find the missing piece before it floated away. He had to tether it back to his being. He willed himself to his—Harry's bedchamber and knocked things over before he found what he was looking for—a shining blue crystal, wrapped partially in cloth. He hastily clutched the cloth with the stone in his talons without landing, but was careful not to touch the stone.

With a flash of his red wings, and a fluttering of flame, he tossed himself through space to where he knew part of him was roaming, lost.

He reappeared feet above a stony hill to the scene Fawkes had expected. Albus stood frozen, wand in hand, pointing at a smoldering pile of wooden debris. Fawkes ignored every whim of the part of soul trapped inside him and paid Albus no mind. Instead, he flew around the hill quickly, waving the crystal through the air with his talons. As Fawkes flew, he felt the pain and loss in part of Harry's soul ease as it found something to cling to: the crystal. Harry's exhaustion took over and he no longer had energy to look through Fawkes's eyes. He returned to his blacked out body, unconscious.

When Fawkes felt the part of the soul was complete and in the crystal, Fawkes vanished again, back to Harry's body's side. He dropped the crystal lightly into Harry's immobile, outstretched hand and felt as the presence in the crystal began to drift back into Harry. Fawkes went to perch on one of Harry's protruding bones and began to cry. He worked up and down Harry's body, occasionally having to reset bones before pouring his silvery tears on the wounds. When he had cried all he could and most of Harry's wounds were healed, he disappeared again, careful not to scorch Harry's immobile body as he went.

He appeared back on the hillside where the still smoldering remains of Harry's broom lay. Albus was nowhere to be seen, but the airborne bird knew where to find him. He swooped hastily towards the gates of Hogwarts, soon spotting the auburn hair of Albus glinting in the sun. In a flash of talons and flames, Fawkes gripped onto Albus's robes and the pair vanished from the hillside.

They reappeared in the stadium behind a knot of first years searching the sky. Albus looked as if he was going to make a panicked swipe at the bird, but Fawkes vanished, back to his human counterpart's side. Albus was left unsure of what to do.

Albus cleared his throat and the first years turned around.

He paused, a deer in his own headlights. He didn't know what to say. If he'd been an author writing the scene in front of him, it would have taken him weeks to come up with the perfectly tactful thing to say to the class.

The class who's teacher had clearly disappeared inexplicably.

The class who's teacher had been spying on Albus.

Who'd seen his memories.

Who'd seen the memories even he tried not to remember.

The teacher who he might have killed.

The man who he might have killed.

As it was, he was not the author of this scene and did not have a week to figure out what to say.

"You are dismissed," he said, and walked away pretending to himself that he did not hear the whispering behind him. He made it out of the stadium before he began to crackle. By the time he'd caught sight of Harry lying on the lawn, Albus was scorching the grass beneath his feet and his robes billowed around him.

Fawkes sat clutching the robes above the unconscious Harry's heart.

"You are an unfortunate bird," said Albus dangerously as he approached. "I pity you for having to harbor this man's soul. To have it poison you." Fawkes fluttered his wings indignantly but remained over Harry's heart.

"Be gone, Fawkes. You needn't be involved. Don't be foolish!"

Fawkes pierced Albus with a stare of unmatched knowing. It held compassion, pity, and equal measures of frustration and fierce determination.

"If you will not have me protect you, so be it. _Ennervate!"_ Albus sent the spell at the exposed part of Harry's chest.

Harry shrieked and sat bolt upright. Albus kept his wand trained on Harry who started babbling immediately.

"Are you always going to be here when I die? Last time I was naked, though. Fawkes, get _off._Oh, brilliant. I'm alive. Merlin, it's great being invincible. That reminds me. I should go kick some Riddle ass. Fawkes, get off. I can protect my own shirt, thanks."

Fawkes didn't move and Harry was unable to pry him from his chest.

"_Damn it_Fawkes, I've got things to do," said Harry, and clicked his fingers and Fawkes disappeared with a pop from Harry's chest.

"Right, now, let's see. Blue rock in my hand…great. How the fuck did that get here? Useless…" he put the crystal in his pocket.

"Albus, could you get that stick out of my face? Seriously," said Harry, suddenly on his feet. Albus didn't lower his wand. "Right. You're so jealous of my power…Your wand probably goes up automatically in my presence…I don't have time for you right now. I have a _field trip_."

"Oh I don't think so—" Albus lunged at Harry just as Harry was disappearing. Harry, wrapped up in his own self centered thoughts, barely noticed the extra weight of Albus side along apperating with him until they appeared in an uninhabited bedroom in number 12 grimmauld place.

"You _dolt!"_said Harry, exasperated. "Nobody let's me do what I need to do around here. Just—_Stupify_!—bugger off!" Albus didn't see the wandless spell coming and was knocked unconscious, slumping towards Harry. Harry sidestepped him neatly and Albus crumpled to the rugged floor.

"Right. Going on a Riddle hunt…" Without a glance at the unconscious man behind him, Harry made his way through the large house, his ego-flooded mind on how easy it would be to kill Tom Riddle.

Harry strode through the house, not bothering to silence his footsteps as he went. With a sweep of his mind, he knew where all of the occupants of the house were and set off towards the drawing room.

He didn't hesitate when he reached the door, but burst in to find Voldemrot in an armchair and Wister kneeling by the fireplace. They both turned when they heard the door bang open. Voldemort stood up dramatically.

"My _lord!_We have _company!"_ said Harry, sarcastically imitating one of Voldemort's servants. Then he changed his voice. He imitated the high cold laugh he'd heard in his dreams as a child, the high cruel voice that killed his mother and his father. He imitated the intonation he'd heard in his waking nightmares for years.

"_Kill the spare!"_Harry hissed with ironic venom, locking eyes with Voldemort. Harry did not turn to the man crouching in the fireplace, but the room was flooded with a green light of his creation. The light subsided leaving the room darker than before. Wister was no longer crouching.

Or breathing.

Harry smiled, satisfied.

"Alone at last," Harry said, ignoring the searing heat from the crystal in his pocket.

"Thanks," said Voldemort, trying to act cool. "I've been trying to get rid of him for a week. I just didn't have the heart to do it myself—imagine that."

"It is easy to imagine that you have no heart, Voldemort." Voldemort hid his flinch at the sound of his own name.

"Have you come to join the club?" Voldemort asked.

"Killing a selfish idiot like him won't taint my soul enough to join you," said Harry, needing very little effort to ignore the burning crystal in his pocket. "Nor will killing you. I don't think anything can hurt my soul anyway. –But let's talk about you. Man—I'm not even possessing you and you've got a hard on. It must have become a habit. Do you want to fix that before I kill you? That'd sure be embarrassing in an autopsy. Go ahead, I can wait."

"How dare you! You insolent—"

"Hunk? Yeah. I know." Harry was swaggering towards Voldemort. "Hey, I'm in a good mood. Maybe if you stroke my ego I'll stroke your—"

"I _will_ kill you," he snarled.

"With your wand?" asked Harry, close enough to speak directly into Voldemort's ear. "It seems to be otherwise occupied."

"How are you doing this?" gasped Voldemort.

"It's all you. I'm not involved—I know you want me to be involved," said Harry, snaking his hand down. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you."

"Resolve of an ox, you've got," said Harry, pulling back.

"Since that day in the shop," Voldemort continued unprompted.

"Right—oomph," Voldemort spun Harry and pushed him into the armchair Voldemort had previously inhabited. It transfigured itself into a bed beneath Harry.

"The most powerful desire of the flesh I've ever possessed," whispered Voldemort, crawling up over Harry.

"Yeah, whatever," said Harry, squirming slightly. "So, this has been fun, but I've got places to be." He drew his wand and pointed it up at Voldemort.

To Harry's surprise, Voldemort knocked the wand from his hand onto the floor and leaned in.

"You haven't anywhere to be, Mr. Potter, but right here," he hissed in Harry's ear before biting down on Harry's lobe.

Harry felt a foreign flash of intense lust—but it was gone immediately, along with the man above him. Voldemort had recoiled, cursing in pain.

"No shit!" said Harry, realizing immediately what had hurt Voldemort. Harry was still affected by his mother's protection spell, and Voldemort couldn't touch him because his body had not yet been built with Harry's blood. Harry chuckled and bounced off the bed to retrieve his wand.

"Right, I'm getting bored. _Avada Kedavra!_" called Harry.

"_Imperio!"_called Voldemort at the same time. Their spells collided between them and made one solid golden beam of light arching and then they heard the song of the phoe—

"Oh bugger this! I do _not_have time for this priori incantatem crap," growled Harry, jerking the holly and phoenix wand, shattering the beam of light before beads of light could begin to emerge.

He looked over to see Voldemort was standing stunned, looking between himself and Harry and his wand. Apparently Voldemort had gone and bought the Yew and Phoenix wand. While Voldemort stood stunned, Harry used the time to look around the room trying to find a solution to his wand problem. And there in the doorway was Albus with a look of painfully innocent shock across his youthful features.

Harry ignored the guilty lurch in his stomach, trying not to wonder how long Albus had been standing there or how much he'd seen. Instead Harry turned his wand on Albus.

"_Perfect_timing Albus. _Accio_ Elder Wand! Capital. Thanks." He caught Albus's wand—the elder wand, the death stick, the wand Harry knew would never fail at any task.

"Close your eyes, Albus. This could be too much for you to handle. _Avada Kedavra!_" Harry waved the deathstick at Voldemort and nothing happened. There was no flash of green or beam of light. He tried again and nothing happened.

The wand was not the problem.

Harry was not the problem.

The future was the problem.

Voldemort wasn't dead in the future, so Harry couldn't kill him.

_But he could!_

He was Harry Potter.

He could do anything.

He had seven souls.

He was Master of Death.

He was hot enough to get the attention of _Tom Riddle. _

He was on a hell of an ego trip, but he could do it.

Harry raised the wand once more. He didn't know it, but there was fire behind his eyes. He didn't know it, but the space around him was shimmering like he wasn't really there. He raised the wand and, for a third and final time, called _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry could tell that it worked. The beam left the wand and was racing in the direction of Voldemort, but to Harry it wasn't racing. To Harry it was inching across the room. Harry looked from side to side and the room felt muffled like he wasn't really there. He had trouble seeing what was real and what was from somewhere else. He could feel himself being ripped from reality. The closer the green light was to Voldemort, the farther he felt from the drawing room and 1957. Harry was fading away. Or going somewhere else.

But he was Harry Potter and he was saving the wizarding world, so it was worth it.

He was killing the worst wizard ever born, so it was worth it.  
To save the wizarding world.  
From Voldemort.  
Because Voldemort killed people for fun.  
Killed people out of spite.  
Killed people without a second thought.  
Killed people.  
Killed children for his own purposes.  
Killed women who were in the way.  
Killed men because they were there.

Killed men.

Harry glanced to the fireplace where there lay an inanimate man. A man. A man with eye lashes and knee caps. A man who loved Quidditch and wore sweater vests and bread plants. A man who had a mother and a father. A man who had no life left.

A man.

A man.

Wister was a man.

But he wasn't a man anymore, he wad dead.

There was no man left because Harry had taken it away.

Harry's pocket burned and he finally noticed. Time wasn't going anywhere fast, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out the crystal.

It was black.

It seared the skin on his fingers.

And it was black like tar.

It was no longer shiny and blue.

It was black and it seemed to suck the light of the room into its sinister depths.

It stuck to his fingers like oil and the burn spread.

The burn spread inside him. He felt it scalding down his throat and felt its flame incinerating his heart.

He cried out in agony. Cried out to the timeless room. Cried out to the man on the floor.

He cried out in remorse and knew he would deserve to be vanished from that spot and never seen again. If not as the price for ridding the world of Voldemort, he deserved it as a consequence for killing a man.

He'd killed a man.

Harry clutched his black, festering, accidental horcrux and he knew what pain was.

The world kept fading as the beam of green light crept closer to Voldemort and Harry's heart burned and he clutched at his face, finding it streaked with tears.

He felt his thrashing glance land on the fading Albus. He blinked.

And then there was a flash of red light in the green and Harry found himself able to see the world clearly again through his pain. Time went back to normal speed, and Harry looked up just in time to see Fawkes materialize in front of the green beam of light and choke it down his throat, igniting Fawkes as it went.

And as Fawkes went down in a column of flame, Harry screamed. He didn't scream from the agony scouring his body and soul. He didn't scream because his enemy would live. He didn't scream because he was back anchored to the fifties. He didn't scream because part of his soul was in the way of the light.

He screamed because Fawkes the phoenix, his companion and friend, had put himself in front of a killing curse. A killing curse from the Elder Wand. Harry had designed the spell to work no matter what, and he'd used the most powerful wand in existence.

Fawkes, his selfless friend and protector, drifted to the rug as a pile of ashes.

Harry crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down his blank face into the scratchy rug. Harry twitched himself into unconsciousness, his throat hoarse, and his chest tight. In his hand he gripped the crystal. The translucent blue crystal, shining brighter than ever as he sobbed unknowingly.

**A/N:**

**Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I've got reasons…Just…review. See you next time.**

**-Moonlight**


	24. Literature

**A/N: Jeepers creepers that took forever. Please bear with me through this chapter. It's transitional. Foreshadowing. Necessary. I**_**do**___**have a plan and it**_**will**___**work. I will not leave plotholes.**

**This Chapter, my Beta Reader has been cursed by a warlock to be excessively alluring. She's been fighting off guys and girls for weeks and has no time to edit. Poor thing.**

**Read and review!**

_**Last Chapter**_: _Harry screamed because Fawkes the phoenix, his companion and friend, had put himself in front of a killing curse. A killing curse from the Elder Wand. Harry had designed the spell to work no matter what, and he'd used the most powerful wand in existence._

_Fawkes, his selfless friend and protector, drifted to the rug as a pile of ashes._

_Harry crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down his blank face into the scratchy rug. Harry twitched himself into unconsciousness, his throat hoarse, and his chest tight. In his hand he gripped the crystal. The translucent blue crystal, shining brighter than ever as he sobbed unknowingly._

**Chapter 24**

The wand was removed from Harry's hand, but Harry, of course, didn't notice. He didn't see the figure above him blurring the air with beams of light and swishes of cloak. He didn't see the noseless man fall, and he didn't feel himself rise into the air, barely holding onto the crystal in his hand. The crystal he'd turned into a horcrux with his murder and his hate. The horcrux that he'd changed back with crippling remorse.

He didn't feel his head hit the door on the way out of number 12 Grimmauld place and he was unaware of the rubbery sensation of side-along apparation as he was transported outside the Hogwarts gates.

Albus, on the other hand, was acutely aware of everything. He could smell Wister's cologne as it was blown into the air by the air in the wake of Voldemort as he fell. He saw the same breeze disturb the small pile of ashes on the ground in front of Harry's twitching body. There was nothing in the pile. There was no limp baby bird. There was no egg. The dust blew away.

Albus was keenly aware of his clenched insides.

He levitated Harry and heard the soft thump as his head made contact with the doorframe. He paid special attention not to brush Harry's skin with his own as he apparated them back to the gates of Hogwarts, and was careful to disillusion both of them before entering the grounds.

His arm was raised, wand high directing the floating man in front of him.

Albus's hand was not shaking with rage; it was still with a fierce determination as he ascended the steps to the double doors. His invisible body was graceful and hard like a panther before a kill. Two…three…four flights of stairs. Two secret passageways. Up the hidden Headmasters' Elevator from the fourth floor to the seventh. He was striding down the seventh floor hall, his body a perfect picture of dangerous elegance.

His mind was not.

His thoughts hissed and spat like boiling oil. Stray emotions threw themselves around like whips. His aura was raw, cringing and jabbing.

It was thus that he discovered a presence in his office before he arrived.

Minerva. She was wrought with anxious concern.

Albus stopped in the middle of the hall, his body finally betraying some of his mind's qualms. He turned around as if to go back down the hall. He turned back towards his office. He turned around again towards the hall, but changed his mind and spun back towards his office, clearly gripped by a rare moment of indecision.

His aura fizzled around him, lashing and crackling. He felt as Minerva approached, descending the escalator of his office. That was enough to make up his mind. He turned back down the hall and made to walk briskly down it but stopped as he heard thunder—no, footsteps, coming from his destination.

Hagrid. He felt a protective and suspicious presence roll off the half giant.

Albus was trapped. There was no way he'd be able to slip by Hagrid without doing magic Minerva might notice. He couldn't to go this office, and he couldn't have anyone see him now.

He turned his head and did a double take. It had probably been the first double take of Albus Dumbledore's life, but Albus wasn't worried about anyone calling him on his uncharacteristic surprise. He was more worried about the door that had appeared in the wall next to him.

He'd spent over fifty years in the castle (though most would argue that he looked not a day over forty), but had never seen a door on that particular patch of wall.

He thought he'd seen all of the passageways and moving staircases and trick doors. The rate at which the castle surprised him had slowed. With enough experience, even the people stopped surprising him.

Except Harry. Harry had been the first surprise in a while.

Harry surprised him every day.

Harry floated limply in the air next to him in the soon-to-be occupied hall. The thunderous footsteps drew nearer from his left. He heard the escalator grinding to his right.

He took a breath like a seven year old about to dive into a pool, opened the door in front of him, and was sucked into the room drawing Harry behind him. The door snapped shut behind Harry and there was silence except for Albus's invisible breathing.

Harry was unconscious but was still twitching midair. Albus let him fall to the ground, a little faster than would be comfortable. He made to conjure a chair and bindings for Harry, but the room beat him to it. A chair appeared in the middle of the room, chains wrapped around each arm. It was the same as the chair in the courtroom at the ministry.

Albus hid his feeling of disconcertion from his invisible face in front of the empty room.

He levitated Harry into the chair. The chains sprung to life immediately and pulled Harry upright, binding him tightly to the back of the chair.

Albus removed the disillusionment charms on both of them and sat down in a chair that appeared behind him. A light flicked on over Harry's head, illuminating only Harry, the chair, and a foot of stone floor around him. It cast hard shadows on his face. The light glared off the sheen of sweat on his ghostly white face and flashed off his miraculously intact glasses.

Albus conjured himself a glove on one hand. Careful not to let his skin touch, he reached into Harry's robe pocket and, with some difficulty, drew out Harry's wand. He conjured a small wooden box and placed the wand within it.

Albus had discovered how to cut Harry off from his auras. He'd tested his theory the day he'd attacked Harry on the lawn and taken his wand. He attempted to recreate the effects. He twiddled the Deathstick in his fingers before putting a few well chosen wards on the box. He nodded in satisfaction and put the box at his feet.

His eyes landed back on the figure in the chair in front of him.

Albus made to take off his glasses but realized he wasn't wearing any. He pinched his nose and squinted into the blurry deluge of light from above him. He let his hands drop to his lap. There he discovered the unmistakable wire frames of half moon glasses, just like the ones that had shattered earlier in the day on the mountain side. He lifted them to his face, curiously. They cleared his vision. He looked around.

Albus took his glasses back off and placed them delicately in his lap. He massaged his temples and pinched the bridge of his nose.

A light flicked on to his left. Albus put his glasses back on.

The light was softer than the one on Harry. It illuminated a table on which there were several objects. Albus stood up and moved closer to inspect them.

On the table there was a large stone basin. Albus knew what it was; it was a pensive.

He moved closer to the table.

Something shining on the table caught his eye. As he moved closer, he identified it as a small phial filled with clear liquid.

"_Accio Veritaserum!_" he guessed, correctly identifying the contents of the tube. It flew to his hand, and he shook it lightly before replacing it on the table.

"I suppose an interrogation will be necessary at this point," he muttered to himself. "But I'll start without forcing him," he finished louder, like he was chastising the room's lack of faith.

He pursed his lips and strode over to Harry. He took a deep breath with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. He stepped into the circle of light. He put his wand over Harry's heart. He drummed his fingers against the slender piece of wood for a moment, maybe uncomfortable that the instrument that had murdered a phoenix was in his hand. He tucked a stray lock of auburn hair behind his ear and muttered, "_Ennervate!"_

Harry's body lurched forward like he'd been defibrillated, but sunk back against the chair, still unconscious.

Albus frowned, but knew better than to try again. He did not, however, know why the elder wand had failed to awaken Harry. He wanted to know why.

It was then that he noticed another illuminated table. On it was a thick, gnarled book.

Albus crossed the dark room to it and picked it up gingerly.

_The Study and Magical Manipulation of the Soul_had a cover as thick and rough as bark and had brittle pages. It inspired feelings of heartbreaking sentimentality. Albus felt like the book was something he'd both loved and something that had hurt him, though clearly he'd never seen it before.

He looked around the room and was only slightly surprised to find a comfortable looking armchair and lamp in one corner. He sighed in impatient resignation and went to sit in the chair, settling the heavy book on his lap.

He opened to the first page. On it, in flamboyant, hand written script was written a table of contents.

_**The Functions of a Soul**_  
_**The Parts of the Soul**_  
_………Body_  
_………Personality_  
_………Spirit_  
_**The Whole Soul**_  
………_An owner's experience_  
_**The Split Soul**_  
_………Procedure_  
………_An owner's experience_  
_**Horcruxes: a failed experiment**_  
_………Theory_  
_………Procedure_  
_………Failure Analysis_  
_**Re-Piecing a Split Soul**_  
_………Theory_  
_………Procedure_  
_………Description_  
_**The Soul Out of Body**_  
_………Possession of Animals_  
_………Possession of Humans_  
_………Possession of Objects_  
_………Wandering Soul_  
_**The Soulless Body**_  
_………The Dementors' Kiss_  
_………Failed Possession_  
_………The Soulless Body: A Description_  
_**The Soul after Death**_  
………_A Ghost's Dictations_  
………_The Theory of "Beyond"_

Albus's eyebrows were almost touching his widows' peak as he finished reading the page. Albus hadn't been interested in the soul until he'd met Harry. He'd never come across any literature about the soul, except referenced abstractly in the context of possession and dementors and metaphor.

Though it was hardly the time to be doing educational reading, Albus didn't have anything else to be doing, so he sunk himself into the tome, his face growing closer and closer by the hour.

He occasionally looked up at Harry. Each time it happened, it was sudden, like he'd noticed him there for the first time and was startled. Harry continued to sweat unconsciously in the chair.

Hours passed, and Albus read on into the night. His checks on Harry became less frequent.

His emotions flashed across his face as he moved through the journal. His face read intense fascination as he accumulated the basics, and turned to shock and eventually horror as the author described the splitting of a soul and the process of making a horcrux. His blue eyes glistened in the weak light as he waded through the description of the painful remorse, and by the time he read about the post-death soul, his mouth had fallen open in wonder.

He looked up lost in thought. His eyes glazed, and the room was still. The air was charged with a meaningful silence.

Albus's stomach growled.

Albus started out of his chair and the book fell to the ground with an almighty thud. He bent and picked it up, then placed it on a stand that had appeared next to the lamp. He put his half moon glasses on the table and rubbed his strained eyes.

Clearly having caught onto the room's functions, Albus cocked his head in thought for a moment before a small table appeared, set for a meal for one, but, naturally, no meal appeared.

"_Gamp's law,"_ grumbled Albus, imagining that Harry probably knew how to transfigure or conjure food. Albus, on the other hand, would need to find existing food.

He edged over to the door and hesitated before cracking it open. He peered outside, preparing to summon food to him, before he noticed what hall the door opened onto.

The door was directly across from a painting of a large bowl of fruit. He was in the hallway outside the kitchens. Albus pursed his lips and took a step out of the room, making sure the door was wide open. He ventured out into the hall slowly, like a trapeze walker. He reached out to the painting and began to tickle the pear. It started giggling and then it started chuckling then--

_Slam._

Albus whirled around to find the wall empty. The door was gone. He nearly flicked the pear in frustration.

_Albus had been mistaken. His__Ennervate__spell had, in fact worked. A consciousness within Harry had awoken. It was a young and old consciousness. It was wise but free. It was loving but refined. It was lamenting the loss of its body, but felt warm and safe inside Harry. Its instincts told it that it was sharing a body with a pure soul. It was sharing with a soul that had known darkness and had chosen to reject it. This consciousness knew that its presence this intimate would disturb even the slightest of impurities in the others' soul, but Harry's soul was clean. His remorse had wiped away the stains spilled by his rampant ego. It had distilled his paranoia to a simple awareness. It had made his joy innocent and his instincts unclouded by doubt. The poisonous magic of the horcrux had been leeched from his system and even his body was sweating out physical impurities._

_Most importantly, the denial had been wiped from his heart. The fog of ignorance had been lifted, and Harry's soul rang with love, as it once had when he was a boy._

_Harry's love brimmed and crashed like an ocean, its waves breaking as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a gale force blowing with adrenaline over a forest, making trees dance far beneath. It was a choir of flowers, singing to the sun. But at the same time, it was a little boy, skinny and pale, sitting in the middle of a cold, empty room. He hugged his knees to him, shaking and crying. It was to this boy that Fawkes's displaced soul sang._

_The song grew louder in Harry's unconscious soul, and the boy cried on. As the music reached a crescendo, the boy looked up from his knees, his face tear streaked._

Harry woke up. The light above him made him slam his eyes shut again. A tear emerged from his contracted features. He tried to move his hands to cover his face, but he was bound tightly to a rigid chair. He shifted uncomfortably.

The moment he registered that the chair was uncomfortable; however, he felt the chair soften. He was still bound, but he seemed to be sitting on cushions. The light above him softened, and as Harry's eyes adjusted, he could see a table with a pensive, and a table with a book. Beside the book was a pair of half moon glasses.

He felt a fist grip his heart and his eyes prickled. From within him, he heard the song of the phoenix, encouraging, supporting.

Harry opened his mouth in surprise, which slowly turned to a smile of ecstatic relief that he had not entirely lost—murdered his friend.

His only friend, as it appeared.

Fawkes's soul was living comfortably within Harry, as far as Harry could tell. Fawkes only seemed to wish he could fly again on his own wings.

Harry sniffed, and vowed to learn to fly.

He would do anything for the spirit within him that had saved his life, his soul, his love. He would do anything for Fawkes, who had died to save Harry from himself. He found himself realizing he was also grateful to still be in the fifties, even if he was tied to a chair. He realized he just wanted to see Albus again.

Albus.

Harry knew their next meeting would not be pleasant. He knew that Albus was disgusted with him—with reason.

Harry just wished there was something he could do to earn the right to Albus's trust, and eventually actually earn his trust. He wished there was something he could do to prepare himself for Albus's impending distain.

When he thought about it, though, anything to do besides sitting in a chair would have been nice.

He heard a rustle of paper and looked down. On his lap was _Dame Dove's Tactful Tips for the Best Boyfriends._

"Oh, the Room of Requirement," Harry sighed, his voice coming out rather raspy. Promptly, a table appeared next to him with a glass of water on it. An absurdly long straw sprouted out of the glass and stopped in front of Harry's mouth. He smiled and took a drink. When his thirst had been quenched, he looked back down at the piece of parchment.

Being tied to a chair, he had nothing better to do than to read. He actually laughed out loud at some of the tips, his voice coming from his throat like water from long-dry spring, but something compelled him to continue reading.

_Dame Dove's Tactful Tips for the Best Boyfriends_

_1.) Flowers are never overrated._  
_2.) Be spontaneous._  
_3.) Do something unique, even if it's crazy and impractical. This makes the best memories._  
_4.) Don't wait for an occasion to be sweet._  
_5.) Don't talk about anyone who could be competition. Jealousy won't reveal itself until it's too late._  
_6.) A little effort goes a long way._  
_7.) Know your significant other's eye color, and comment when their clothes bring it out._  
_8.) Tell secrets, however small, that you've never told anyone else._  
_9.) Do not say embarrassing or rude things with an arm over their shoulder. It embarrasses them by association._  
_10.) Say only what you mean._  
_11.) Make time, even when there isn't much to make._  
_12.) Say what's on your mind. Ask what you want to ask._  
_13.) A significant other is always looking for clues when they get things right. Give them more than clues._  
_14.) Be comfortable and confident. You're in a relationship because someone thinks highly of you._  
_15.) Know their favorite song and dance with them to it._  
_16.) Try new things and be honest about what you think of them._  
_17.) Don't change who you are to what you think they want you to be._  
_18.) Know how they like their drinks._  
_19.) Be Proud of your relationship, but don't use it to prove anything to others._  
_20.) Ask superficial questions, personal questions, and pointless questions._  
_21.) Don't be afraid of being too sappy._  
_22.) Give them reason to believe that you feel like you made the right decision in choosing them as your significant other._  
_22.5) Slip personal references or jokes into conversations that third parties won't notice._  
_23.) Leave notes. Simplicity is as meaningful as detail._  
_24.) Take time to just look into their eyes and smile._  
_25.) Sexuality is a gift. _  
_26.) Tell the truth._  
_27.) Have dress up dates with formal destinations and nice food, and dress down dates with popped corn and a deck of cards._  
_28.) Admire them for something they excel at and learn from them. Never be bitter or jealous of their strengths._  
_29.) Be protective and stick up for them, but don't crowd and condescend._  
_30.) Don't ruin it by talking. Sometimes silence is more meaningful than words._  
_31.) A hug longer than five seconds will make someone trust you, but don't take trust for granted._  
_32.) Answer unasked questions._  
_33.) Find out what they're proud of and support them._  
_34.) Make funny faces._  
_35.) Know what's going on, but not what you're not supposed to know._  
_36.) Don't discuss the details of mundane medical conditions._  
_37.) Be clean._  
_38.) Find creative reasons to spend time together. Made up holidays, anniversaries of stupid numbers are thoughtful._  
_39.) If small character-stuff bugs you, don't point it out. They can't do anything about it and it's just going to torture them to know it bugs you._  
_40.) Cuddle. Hug._  
_41.) Be vulnerable. Let them save you from the tower sometimes._  
_42.) This tip is the meaning of life._  
_43.) Give them something they can wear that reminds them of you._  
_44.) Give them something they can use that reminds them of you._  
_45.) Flowers are never overrated._

"Huh," said Harry, looking up from the paper. He heard the phoenix song laughing gaily in his head and had a strange feeling he'd end up wanting to reference the list.

**A/N: Please review!**

**-Moonlight**


	25. Memory

**A/N: This chapter should be better than last chapter. And don't worry—Albus is going to stop being a moron soon. =D**

**Read and review!**

Albus levitated a platter full of food as he escalated himself to the seventh floor. He'd bewitched the tray to replenish itself from the kitchen, and had begun thinking about how to reenter the mysterious room. He decided to start where he'd entered it in the first place. After a few minutes of stair climbing, he arrived across from the tapestry of trolls. He stared at the bit of wall with a blank expression. He made a few motions at it with his wand, careful to keep the tray floating. Nothing happened. Albus paced, challenged.

Before long, and with no apparent stimulation, the door appeared on the wall. Albus hummed in curious satisfaction and then marched himself gravely inside.

The room was better lit than he left it and there was a table next to Harry—and Harry was awake.

"Hello, Harry," said Albus quietly.

"'Lo, Albus," said Harry. "Suppose you've got some questions for me."

Albus didn't say anything but drew up a chair backwards in front of Harry and sat down, straddling the back.

"Your wand is under protection. You won't be able to locate or use it."

"I won't use it, but isn't it in that box over there?" Harry nodded towards the wooden box at the foot of the reading chair. Harry knew it was there and knew he could use it if he wanted.

"Interesting," said Albus. He wasn't used to being wrong.

"Fawkes hid it from me before. That day when you hid it. He thought you and I should chat. I wouldn't have stayed that day if I'd known where your wand was. Today, however, he seems to think you're angry enough with me that I should have the protection."

"Your phoenix is dead, Crockett. You murdered him."

"That's true. Only the Elder wand could kill the body of a phoenix and I am wrought with remorse for doing it myself," said Harry, sounding very wrought with remorse indeed. "But his soul has found itself a new home…I hope I'll be able to share it with him as he shared his body with me. He doesn't seem too unhappy at the moment. He rather likes fingers," he said idly flexing his hands. He fell silent for a moment, and when he spoke again it was thoughtfully. "My name isn't Crockett. It's Potter. I am Harry James Potter."

"Yes, I suppose I knew that," said Albus. "What I don't know is why you've chosen an alias."

"Have you ever met anyone by the name of Potter?"

"Yes. I am acquainted with Charlus and Dorea Potter of Godic's Hallow. They are an old pureblood wizarding family. Are you their relation?"

"Yes."

"Cousin?"

"No. I'm their grandson." Harry was tired of dodging questions. His remorse made him honest and direct.

"They have no child."

"Yet."

Albus tried a different tact.

"How do you know of my death?"

"I have witnessed your death, Albus."

"By what means?"

"I saw it before you met me here." Albus frowned and moved on.

"And you know of my sister?"

"I know that her memory has haunted you and will haunt you above all else for the rest of your life."

Albus stopped asking questions for a moment, taken aback by Harry's answer.

"I will answer any question you have for me," Harry offered to the silence.

"The truth?" Albus asked quietly.

Harry smiled, remembering himself, a small boy in a hospital wing, asking Professor Dumbledore the same thing. He replied as Dumbledore had. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

Albus nodded. "I saw part of my death through your dream. Why was someone trying to kill me?" Albus asked. It was a remarkably similar question to the one Harry had asked Dumbledore in the hospital wing when he was eleven. "Why was Voldemort trying to kill me?" Harry'd asked.

Harry paused, but knew what his answer had to be. "Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now… When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know," he quoted. He paused for a moment before adding, "Though I have little reserve about revealing parts of the future to you—you're brilliant enough that no one would notice—your death is something that is not for me to discuss beyond that it will be on your terms."

Albus nodded, knowing he would not be able to argue.

Albus had gone into the conversation determined to be in control of the situation. He wanted to bring Harry to justice. When Harry had started spouting truths about him, he found himself clinging to them, but now that the topic was shifting back to Harry, Albus swept into control again.

"Your soul is in seven places," he accused.

"Yes."

"Did you kill six people?"

"No. I have killed one man. Today. My soul was in seven places but was still intact as a whole. When I killed Wister Bloom one of the seven pieces tore away. My hatred and denial turned it into a horcrux."

"Where is the horcrux?"

"I—it…I believe it…" Harry blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging. His chest contracted and a lump formed in his throat.

"You purged it with remorse," whispered Albus, in awe. The information had strong meaning to Albus, he having just finished learning all there was written about the soul.

Harry nodded, hot tears threatening to fall down his face.

"Why did you kill him, Harry?"

Knives were stabbing Harry's heart and water was filling his lungs. A hand closed around his throat and tears scalded his cheeks.

"I didn't give him—Wister— a glance. I was _so angry_at Riddle. My attack was at him. It mirrored something he once did to me_,_" he choked. "The only difference is I am not Tom Riddle. I have brought about the death of men and women before, but none were by my own hand. None were by my and only my decision. I remember thinking it couldn't be any different—it couldn't be hurtful to kill someone as pitiful as Wister. I was invincible. It was my ego, running unchecked and unbalanced through me. I plan to never operate without all parts of me present again."

"But Fawkes is dead, Harry. What part of you is running rampant and unchecked now?"

"I…he's helping me control it from within," said Harry, looking up. His watering green eyes met Albus's blue gaze for a second too long. "He hid it from me a lot when it was in his body, and I'm still…working out what it means. It's not something that could hurt anyone but me anyway," he said in an undertone.

"What did Tom Riddle ever do to you?"

"If you asked him that, he would answer truthfully that he has done nothing to me but what you have witnessed."

"What…Will he do to you?" asked Albus, showing he'd begun to understand.

"He will orphan me, scar me for life, make me the number one undesirable in all of Britain, turn me into a vessel for his soul for sixteen years, kill many of the people closest to me, and he will unsuccessfully use the killing curse on me a total of three times. And he will make me the most famous wizard in the world."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty nine."

"How old are you?"

"Negative twenty three."

"How old are you?"

"My year of birth is nineteen eighty."

"How did you get here?"

"I apparated."

"How did you get here?"

"Well," said Harry, resigning to tell the whole truth, "I put on a very large time turner, got knocked out by a large glowing crystal which must have set off the time turner, fell to the floor and was enveloped by the crystal along with a room full of random objects. Somewhere in the process, my soul found its way into six of the objects around me. For ten years I relieved memories stuck in that crystal and then one day…I was free. I found myself in the Forbidden Forrest. I discovered the year, and spent two years adjusting myself to my new powers and my fate in this time. I made a good deal of money with investments, and then one day I wanted to check something. I knew that Tom Riddle would be working at Borgin and Burkes and I decided to check on him. He was there, and he told me he was planning on applying to work for you.

"I had been isolated in my two years in this time. I made little contact with people out of habit. It was a nice change. For twenty six years I was a hero. For twenty six years I was famous. I finally found myself some peace.

"But when I heard Tom Riddle say he was going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I knew that's where I wanted to be. I knew what would transpire in that interview and knew that you would still be looking for a teacher. I wanted to come back here. Hogwarts was my first home. I wanted to be in the castle. And I knew that I would know people here. I wanted to be around people I lo—know."

"You know Minerva."

"She was my head of house and teacher."

"Rubius."

"He was a friend and teacher. We had tea with him a lot—never eat his stoat sandwiches."

"Horace."

"Teacher…and a real bother. I was famous, remember." Albus smiled.

"Ms. Sprout taught you herbology?"

"Yes."

"Binns?"

"Let's just say you'll never ever have to replace him."

"And what of me, Harry Potter? What was I to you?"

"Would you care to see? I suppose it would make my story more credible."

"We've a pensive."

"Right," said Harry. Albus waved his wand and the table with the pensive moved itself over to them.

"You know I could have been doing magic the whole time…tampering with your mind to make you believe me…spinning lies…Have you ever seen a modified memory?"

"Yes," said Albus.

"Then you will know when you see mine that they are real and that I have been telling the truth. I have reason to believe that I won't be messing with the natural order of things by showing you this. When I was a child and knew you, you were always unnaturally clairvoyant and informed on goings on. Just know that a lot will happen to you before these occurrences, and a lot has happened to me since.

"Now, would I alarm you, Albus, if I unchained my arms to remove a memory?"

"I think I'd be impressed in spite of myself," said Albus, resigned.

Without breaking eye contact with Albus, Harry accessed his magic and removed the chains around his arms. He moved one hand to his temple and pulled out a long silvery chain of memories which he dropped into the basin.

"Shall I go first?" asked Harry.

Albus gestured for him to proceed and Harry attempted to lean forward but was restrained by the chains around his chest and waist.

"Oh, I forgot about those, Harry," said Albus, reaching to fumble with the chains.

Harry's heart jolted. _"Help me, Fawkes,"_Harry called inside his mind. "_Is this what you were keeping from me?_" he asked, intensely aware of Albus's proximity. His heart began to race when Albus's hand brushed Harry's clothed torso around the chains. A thought occurred to him, proffered by the level headed bird.

"Albus, Albus—either I can vanish the chains myself, or you can just think about them vanishing a few times. This room will take care of it."

Albus stopped messing with the chains.

"What is this room?"

"It's the Room of Requirement. The house elves call it the Come and Go room. It appears when you need it how you need it."

"That explains a lot," said Albus.

The chains vanished.

"After you, then," said Albus.

Harry leaned forward and immersed his face in the substance of the pensive. He pitched forward and fell through the surface before landing on his feet in the crowded Great Hall. A moment later, young Albus landed next to him.

"The year is nineteen ninety one. The day is September first."

"Your first day of school?"

Harry didn't have to answer because the door to an antechamber to the right of the hall banged open, and all eyes watched as the first years filed out, led by Professor McGonagall.

"Shall we?" asked Harry.

They strolled down the center of the great hall towards the front table and the line of first years.

"Can you guess which one is me?" asked Harry as they reached the group.

Albus waded through the group until he stood before a red haired boy and a black haired boy.

"You look remarkably similar."

"Do you notice a difference?"

"The scar, naturally," replied Albus. "It's still there, isn't it?"

"You've seen it?"

"Yes."

Harry didn't have time to ask when because Minerva had set the sorting hat on the stool and it had begun to sing. Albus didn't watch the sorting hat. Instead, his gaze had landed on Minerva, wrinkled and stern.

"She must be my age," he muttered.

"Only she looks it," said Harry. "You look my age."

The hat stopped singing and Harry and Albus saw Ron turn to the eleven year old Harry and say, "So we've just got to try on a hat! I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll." Little Harry smiled weakly.

"I was so nervous," said Harry.

"Is that a Weasley?" asked Albus.

"Yes. Ron was my best friend. That there's Hermione, my other best friend. We hated her until about Halloween, though. She and Ron ended up married. I, er, married his sister." Harry glanced around the hall and his eyes landed on the Weasley twins. His eyes were prickling with memory. "You know, Albus, er, I think I'm going to take a walk. Feel free to… to look at people, or whatever." And with that, he paced dreamily back down the table to sit beside Fred and George leaving Albus alone with the first years.

Albus looked up and down the decreasing line of eleven year olds, before he heard a familiar cough. He looked up to the head table in time to catch a glance from the man in the seat of honor. Professor Dumbledore looked back down at his plate.

Albus dodged around the first years and walked up behind the table until he reached his silver haired counterpart. His right arm was moving.

He was writing.

Albus moved closer and peered over Professor Dumbledore's shoulder. On the golden plate there were two pieces of parchment. One was yellowed and cracked around the edges, but Albus recognized it immediately. It was a detailed illustration of a phoenix in black ink. An illustration that Albus had drawn recently.

The other piece of parchment was new. Scrawled across the top in a mysteriously familiar shade of green was, "_Notes to Self:"_

Professor Dumbledore's right hand moved across the page again. In it was perched a phoenix feather quill, streaked with scarlet and gold.

"_He won't know about this conversation."_ Dumbledore paused and started a new line.

"_I came to trust Harry implicitly, but for now I believe mine is the only voice you trust. I am Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore and this is the year 1991. As you can see, my hair is silver and my face is wrinkled—actually it's a charm. Can you tell? When in selected company I take it off and still look fifty. I find the grandfather persona can work wonders on the masses, though._

"_You'll read this in a memory of Harry Potter's in the year 1957 when Harry is desperate for a friend in this world. He is telling the truth; Fawkes is alive and within him. His soul is pure and undamaged, but he is confused. Help him find his way. Merlin knows he's helped me find mine."_

He made to write more, but Professor McGonagall spoke up and Professor Dumbledore put down his quill and looked up.

"Potter, Harry."

The room was suddenly abuzz.

"Did she say Harry Potter?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

Albus looked over the table to see little black haired Harry edge over to the stool and put on the hat. It was too big for him and it fell low over his eyes. The room held its breath.

A minute.

Two minutes.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Harry pulled it from his head and gleefully scampered down the isle to sit at the Gryffindor table to cheers and applause.

Professor Dumbledore clapped with purpose.

Albus felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Would you like to see another?" asked Harry from behind him.

Albus looked down quickly at Professor Dumbledore's plate, but the papers were gone.

"I—"

Professor Dumbledore turned around in his chair.

"I think he believes you," said the silver haired man, smiling coyly, looking vaguely between Harry and Albus.

Harry's heart missed a beat, and he stared. Young Albus looked at Harry and chuckled.

"Talking to yourself again, Albus? Have you finally gone mad?" asked Professor Flitwick from Professor Dumbledore's left.

"Gone mad?" asked Professor Dumbledore. "I've been mad for years, really." He turned back to Harry and Albus. "So long, chaps," said Dumbledore, blowing a kiss.

"You Nancy," muttered Harry as they floated out of the pensive, barely keeping his voice level for the leaping of his heart.

**A/N: Review! Yay! I'll try to publish soon. In the mean time, check out my holiday oneshot. It's HPDM, but you can imagine it's HPAD if that makes you happy.**

**Happy blue moon!**

**-Moonlight**


	26. There and Back Again

**A/N: Sorry for publishing such a short chapter—I suppose you don't mind all that much. It means I'm updating sooner. Um. It's mostly because I'm trying to get some work done and having an unpublished chapter was infinitely distracting. So here's the chapter. And brownie points for anyone who can find my Twilight bashing moment. =D**

**The top half's a little heavy…bear with me.**

Harry landed hard on his feet with Albus a moment behind. Harry didn't concern himself with hiding his blush from Professor Dumbledore's blown kiss, but turned to Albus.

"You believe me?"

"I must say I am finding the evidence…irrefutable," he replied, thinking. "Harry, I must say everything I witnessed first hand today is screaming at me to put you back in that chair." Harry flinched. "But I…My instincts are telling me…Would you like to take a walk?"

"Really, sir, I'd prefer the chair," said Harry, sarcastically.

"Harry, listen to me! Don't punish yourself—"

"Albus!" said Harry warningly. "Either punish me for my murder or don't, but please don't think you'll see any signs of me punishing myself with things like sitting in chained chairs. No, I have had my soul put through…put through," Harry stopped, his voice constricting.

"Hell," Albus proffered. Harry nodded.

"My soul has been put through the flames hell and I did it to myself. I had a choice to keep that bloody horcrux or to submit myself to excruciating pain and I chose the later. I chose to care about…about…" Harry stopped again, catching his breath. "I chose to care about Wister Bloom," he ploughed on. "That he had…had knee caps and eye lashes. I remembered myself. And I remembered him.

"Please, Albus, don't expect that you'll catch me punishing myself with over dramatics like sitting in uncomfortable chairs. 'Oh, no, sir I mustn't have sugar in my tea. I'm atoning.' That would not be atonement. That would be denial. It would be selfish and insulting." Harry needed to explain.

"I have seen my soul ooze with the…horrible black …" Harry stopped, trying to put his horror into words, "abyss. I have scrubbed myself raw and it's gone. Every trace of what made me do it is gone. All of the reasons. What I'm left with is no reasons for what I did. No excuses. Nothing to hide behind. It's just raw," he spluttered.

Albus looked like he was going to lean in to hug Harry, but Harry cut him off with more words.

"But when the burning stopped, I could see everything for exactly how it was. Wister is dead. I killed him because I wanted to hurt Voldemort and didn't spare a thought for Wister. I killed him because my mission was more important than his life. I scrubbed that part out. There's nothing in me that could do that anymore, so there's nothing left in me to punish because it was burned away. The part of my damn aura that made me think I was more important than others rather that just confident—that's gone. I have the vaguest feeling I wouldn't be able to cast _Avada Kedavra_because it would burn so much. Remembering him—remembering doing it doesn't hurt, because there's nothing left to burn... It's remembering it without hurting that will make me burn now.

"My point is, torturing myself superficially isn't going to get anywhere—I'm going to live with this for the rest of my life. –And I'm grateful. It will keep me…honest."

"What honesty," said Albus, quite blown away by Harry's righteous monologue.

"Dishonesty would hurt too much," said Harry flatly.

"I meant more your volunteering of this account to me," muttered Albus.

"Well, that," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "is a whole different bit that would burn." And it was true. Harry'd realized that, for the time being, he couldn't deny that he…he was…Albus had...He couldn't verbalize it either, but he knew that keeping secrets from Albus was distancing them: something he couldn't do anymore because he knew it had partially caused his atrocious actions in the first place.

"Let's take a walk then," said Albus, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

"Have you called the dementors yet?"

"Harry, I said I believed you."

"But I—"

"You said you're not going to punish yourself—"

"Well, maybe I—"

"Did you make that whole speech under the assumption that I was going to do it for you?"

"No, I—"

"A walk, Harry."

Harry stood still, rubbing his upper arm looking sheepish.

"Oh get your wand and let's go!"

Harry waved his hand through the air and a second later, his wand had rocketed out of the warded wooden box and was in his hand. Albus shook his head numbly.

"Maybe when I trust you _implicitly_I'll let you show me how to do that," said Albus as they strode out of the Room of Requirement.

"Oh, you'll _let_ me show you?"

"Or maybe beg on my knees."

"You'd beg a murderer to teach you magic?"

"You won that one. One point for Harry."

Harry stopped and Albus stopped, knowing immediately what he'd done wrong.

"Please take that back. I don't want your pity, Albus."

"I know, Harry."

Harry nodded, satisfied.

"Do you want to stop by your tower to get your things?" asked Albus.

"What, you mean these things?" asked Harry, waving his hand through the air dramatically like a muggle magician. In his hands appeared his missing soul objects un-shrunken: the hat, the record and the bowling ball. He promptly dropped the bowling ball on his foot with a thud. "Um, _OW,_fuck damn_._" The bowling ball began to roll away down the corridor. Albus walked calmly after it.

"Does everyone swear like that where you're from?" He paused. "May I?" he asked when he reached the bowling ball.

Harry could think of no reason why he didn't want Albus Dumbledore to be touching part of his soul, so he shrugged, shaking his foot to mend his broken toe.

Albus lifted the ball, testing its weight in each hand.

"This feels different," said Albus, referring to Harry's aura.

"I suppose I had a lot of pent up paranoia. When you spend the first sixteen years of life running from a dark wizard who keeps possessing your school teachers, and spend a career only surviving because you _did_ bother to check in the cereal box for dark wizards—that actually happened—you get a lot of unnecessary fears and, well, the difference you're seeing is the difference between paranoia and _constant vigilance._"

Albus handed Harry the bowling ball. Harry shrunk it, made a special pocket in his robes, and put the bowling ball in along with the hat and record. They resumed their walk.

"What happened to that part of you—the part that was in the broom?" asked Albus.

"It wandered around lost on the mountainside where it…er…was released." Albus grimaced. "Fawkes went and found it and brought it back to me in that blue crystal. Um…I only had my wand with me—and I didn't know how to moderate my…exposure to it…and, to be honest, I didn't want to. It got turned into a horcrux and back—and now…I think it's back here," said Harry pointing to himself. "Now it's…under control."

They reached the front door and descended the steps to the sunlit grounds.

"So you did go to Hogwarts," stated Albus.

"Mmhmm," hummed Harry. "I was a Gryffindor. Hogwarts was my first—and only, I guess, home."

"It's been my greatest home too," said Albus.

"Not to belittle your love for the castle, but…er…I don't suppose you've really explored it…" said Harry, smiling sheepishly.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, I suppose you were a bit of a teacher's pet. You didn't ever, you know, wander off the beaten path."

Even with Harry's heightened hearing, he barely heard Albus mutter "Someone's going to beat your path…"

"Albus! I didn't know you had that in you!" said Harry, scandalized. "But really, have you ever even been inside the forest?" he joked, as they reached the edge of the trees.

"Yes, yes, as a matter of fact, I have."

"Field trip?"

Albus didn't reply. He pushed past Harry and began picking his way through the trees.

"Albus! I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"

Albus didn't turn around. Harry eventually stopped calling after him, but continued his pursuit. This was not the section of the forest in which to be yelling.

They walked for five minutes. They walked for ten more minutes. They walked for twenty after that. And then Harry knew where they were going and he caught up with Albus just in time to break into a clearing.

The clearing.

The clearing was carpeted with bluebells. They glistened in the sunlight with dew that hadn't yet evaporated.

"How did you know where this was?" asked Harry, already somehow knowing the answer.

"I've been here before," said Albus. "It was about two years ago."

Harry nodded.

"The bluebells are new," added Albus.

Harry fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the blue crystal. His former horcrux. His former vessel through time and space.

"That, on the other hand, is not new…" said Albus, eyeing the crystal with interest.

"You came here when the crystal was here," said Harry.

"Yes I did. It was bigger then."

"I was inside it."

"I gathered as much."

"How did you find it?"

"Armando Dippit died here. The crystal killed him. I have a feeling he was doing something foolish."

"Did you touch the crystal?" Harry asked.

Albus nodded.

"I have a feeling you woke me up," said Harry quietly. "Er, thanks," he added.

"You're welcome, but why do you think that?"

Harry blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "I was dreaming about you before I woke up."

"I see."

They stood in silence on the edge of the clearing. Neither wanted to trod on the bluebells. Also, there seemed something innately wrong with sitting in the middle of this clearing in the sparkling sunlight. Like something sacred would be broken.

The silence lasted, both men lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Albus turned to Harry.

"Are you ready to go back?"

"To my time? No. I like it better here. People see me for who I am here. And you—"

"To the castle, Harry," interrupted Albus, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh."

Harry nodded embarrassed. He looked back from where they came. The forest was dark and he was not sure he knew the way back.

Albus silently closed the distance between them and put his arms tightly around Harry, hugging them close and tight.

"What what what what _what_are you doing?" asked Harry, breaking the moment. His breath was leaving him quickly.

Albus pulled back to look at him. "I was hoping you could apperate us back? I'm not sure I could find the way if we walked, and I can't apperate inside the school grounds. Of course…you could teach me at some point—"

"I, Oh— Of course. I mean—Sure," stuttered Harry, paying more attention to the feeling of Albus's rumbling voice vibrating his chest than to his words. _Help me, Fawkes_. "Are you ready to go?"

Albus hummed his assent. Harry hesitated, but put his arms gingerly around Albus's muscled back, keenly aware of the feeling under his fingertips. Harry shut his eyes tightly and reopened them to regain his concentration before jumping through space.

They landed back on the edge of the forest where they had entered.

Harry had conspicuously labored breath as they detached.

"Is it that difficult that it leaves you out of breath?" asked Albus.

"No," said Harry truthfully. "I was—it was—er." He stopped talking, not wanting to say "when you touch me I can't breathe." It burned not to say it. He distracted himself. "I'm not sure how I'm going to teach you. I could only do it after I…woke up. I have faith, though. If you can do this—" Harry prodded Albus gently with his joy-hat aura. Albus gasped and Harry pretended not to notice. "—without being stuck in a massive blue crystal, I think you could learn to apparate inside the grounds."

"I'm fairly certain I could," said Albus. "After all, I nearly beat you in that duel. You can't be that much more powerful than I," he teased. "In fact, I think we tied unfairly."

"Is that a challenge?" asked Harry, his wand suddenly in his hand.

Albus twinkled.

"Now?"

Albus's twinkle intensified.

"Harry Crockett! And—ALBUS PERCIVAL WOLFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE!" They wheeled around to look up at the castle where a distraught looking woman raced towards them.

"I need some more middle names," chuckled Harry. Albus didn't smile, but instead continued watching Minerva.

"_Where_have you been! I've been—You don't know—We couldn't find you—I thought you were—And here you are just—" Minerva reached them and Harry's smile faded.

Minerva looked as if she hadn't slept. Her hair was unkempt and her fingernails were bleeding.

She looked between Harry and Albus for a moment, before pulling back her hand and slapping Albus with all the force she could muster.

"How _could you_!" she accused, before crumpling at their feet, sobbing and gasping. "You just—disappeared—And the s-students saw you disappear with H-Harry in the middle of c-class and the th-things they said, Albus! I th-thought you were…dead! I thought—I thought you'd both been killed—or that he—he k-killed you!"

Albus had put his hand to his cheek where Minerva had slapped him, his mouth open.

Harry jumped in. "It's my fault, Minerva! I—um…"

Minerva didn't seem to hear Harry.

"Oh, A-Albus! Why didn't you tell me when you got back! How _could_you?"

Harry looked between Minerva and Albus. A tear trickled down Albus's stricken face.

"I'm so sorry, Minerva," he whispered. He kneeled down in front of her and took her face in his hands.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated. She looked at him for a moment before collapsing against his chest, sobbing.

A/N: Downer, I know. Kinda reflects my mood. Anyway, review. I'll have the next one up ASAP.


	27. ChChChChanges

**A/N: Yes! A new chapter! It's been over a month and this story's been accidentally deleted and re-posted since then. Ohman. I had 383 reviews, 500 alerts, and 500 faves, and now they're *gone.* I feel like such a moron. Please help me make it up! Feel free to write me a review addressed to 'Matt' complaining about the downtime. (Just kidding, Matt.)**

**This is the first new chapter since the story was deleted. I hope you enjoy it. I've got a bunch of stuff planned for this, so I'll be posting more often than once a month. **

**Warnings for this chapter: Significant suggestiveness. It's all between the first line (where there's a break and the italics start) and the second line. Just in case…you…are like, a second grade teacher or something and want to skip it. Or something.**

* * *

After Minerva's hysterics had subsided, Albus helped her back to the castle solemnly. Harry felt an irrational wave of jealousy, jumped on quickly by his burning conscience.

The three of them went all the way to Albus's office where there was already a pot of tea waiting for them. They sat.

Albus began to speak, his arm around Minerva. "There was no excuse for keeping you unformed, Minerva. I wasn't thinking," he said, glancing at Harry. "However I can offer an explanation, if you so desire."

Minerva sniffed noncommittally.

It took Harry a moment to notice that Albus was looking at him.

"I trust you," he told Albus, meaning it far more than was applicable to the situation.

Albus returned his attention to Minerva.

"Harry was attacked in the middle of his class yesterday," he glanced at Harry fleetingly, "and Harry felt the immediate need to confront Tom Riddle, who has been harassing and threatening him with increasing seriousness."

Harry was impressed with Albus in general, but was in this moment blown away by his ability to manipulate the truth to preserve the vagaries of their absence.

"I was misled by Harry's actions preceding his departure, and, to my surprise, side-along apperated with him to the house of Black where Tom was staying. Due to a series of unfortunate events leading up to Mr. Bloom's death," Harry coughed at the euphemism and Minerva gasped in shock. "I was convinced of Harry's guilt in the matter and brought him back to the castle where I was planning to, er, interrogate him," he finished sheepishly.

"Due to some rather dark magic," Harry coughed again, "Harry was unconscious all night and I was unable to wake him. I…I realize that in this time I should have alerted you of our situation, Minerva. I must confess that I was too …distraught to think of it."

Harry felt a pang of guilt about making Albus distraught.

"When Harry awoke, he cleared up the…misunderstanding very convincingly."

"Albus," said Minerva, who had calmed down significantly, "mixed as they may be to me, what were your feelings about the death of Mr. Bloom such that you held Harry responsible?"

Harry translated that to mean "what about Wister's death made you feel the need to interrogate Harry?"

"Well, I…" Albus hesitated, clearly trying to word his answer exactly right.

"It seems to me, Albus, that you'd been very paranoid about Harry ever since he beat you in the duel," said Minerva, the trace of a smile creeping onto her face.

"I was not unduly para—we tied that duel, thank you Minerva."

"Thanks for taking my side, Minerva. I was juts telling him—"

"I'm not done being angry with you, Harry Crockett."

"I—Ok," said Harry.

"Don't worry, Minerva. I'll make sure I beat him for you in our rematch, I—"

"I hope you demolish each other. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have class." She stood up and left.

"Well, I think she'll be alright," said Harry.

Albus nodded hesitantly. "I…suppose she'll be fine. I have a suspicion that there are more issues here than there appear…" he trailed off. Albus's watch made a small popping noise and he looked down at it. Harry looked to see that it wasn't the stars and moon watch Harry was accustomed to seeing, but a regular watch with twelve numbers.

"Thought I loathe reminding you, Harry, you have a class to teach."

"Right, I'll just…" Harry walked over to the door and pulled it open.

"And—," Albus started. Harry turned around. "It was nice meeting you, Harry James Potter."

* * *

_It was the secret hours of the night, hours meant just for them. They pressed together in the dark, feeling each other's warm skin. Hands roamed all over Harry—his back, his chest. He moaned and ground against the touch. He could hear sighs in his ear, feel hot breath, hands, and body on him. He could smell the heady scent of his partner, but it was dark, and he couldn't see the hands on him, the body moving against him. He wished he could see…and then right in front of him, almost glowing in the dark—_

"_Blue eyes__  
__Baby's got blue eyes__  
__Like a deep blue sea__  
__On a blue blue day__  
__Blue eyes__  
__Baby's got blue eyes__  
__When the morning comes—" _

Harry woke to the early morning light and his magical record player, accurate as always.

"That's quite enough, _thank you_, SirElton John!" groaned Harry as he rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. The cold shower. While Harry showered, he wondered how Fawkes had managed to hide Harry's attraction to Albus so completely for so long. Looking back, thought Harry, there _were_ some clues. For one, he'd known immediately an inexplicably when he saw Albus's job advertisement in the paper that he wanted to work at Hogwarts. He'd grown close to Albus. They'd even shared dr—they'd—they'd even—the dream—

Harry burst out of the shower, shutting off the water with a wave of his hand. He waved a hand over his body to clothe himself before apparating directly to the top of Albus's escalator and pounding on the door.

"Just a minute!" was the muffled reply, hurried and slightly higher pitched that usual.

Suddenly, Harry didn't know what he was doing. What if he and Albus had shared the dream? What would he do? What if they hadn't shared the dream? What excuse would he have to be at his doorstep? Why was he there anyway?

Albus was usually graceful and quiet on his feet, but Harry's absurdly good hearing combined with the headmaster's office doors being notoriously easy to hear through, Harry heard an anxious foot scuff just on the other side.

Horribly curious, Harry forgot himself and reached out his magical aura through the door and—

And met the anxious and embarrassed aura probing back at him from the other side.

Harry gasped.

The door was wrenched part way open and Albus stood on the other side, looking distinctly ruffled.

"Sorry. I didn't know it was you. Not that I do that to all of my other guests—not that I had a specific reason to check who was there now—I—" He pulled his long lilac bathrobe closer to himself, stalling for time. "I'm sorry, Harry, I just woke up, and I'm—I'm—"

"Blithering?" Harry smiled. He was satisfied that Albus either hadn't shared the dream or didn't know he'd shared it with Harry. Taking into account Albus's state, harry suspected it was the second one. Albus shuffled his matching lilac slippers.

"Can I—Can I help you? Tea? Biscuits? I should stop sleeping so much, really. It leaves me all—and you know, if time were really money, my sleeping patterns would make me back-rubbed—ahh—buh—duh—BANKRUPT." And then Albus's brain kicked in and he remembered his skills for controlling conversations to his advantage and how to speak properly.

"I'm sorry. I'm being rude. Did you need something?" Albus managed.

Harry had forgotten his excuse the second he heard the words "back rubbed" pass through Albus's lips and had been staring dreamily every since.

"Sorry, did you say something Albus? Oh, I just…ummm…I had a question about our rematch—the duel, you know, but it can wait. I fancy a spot of breakfast before class," he invented. He was still clearly the more relaxed party in the conversation and couldn't resist taking advantage of it. "'Flustered' is very becoming on you, Albus," Harry smiled. He poked his head around the partially closed door. " —so's that robe." He winked and fell through the floor with a, "toodles."

Albus groaned as he shut the door and fell into a hastily conjured armchair. He took a moment to glance down at his "becoming" lilac robe before remembering the cause of his fluster. He blushed, stood up, vanished the armchair, and made his way to his shower trying, in spite of himself, to remember the dream he'd had.

It had been the most erotic dream he'd had in years—and so realistic. Upon his awakening, he'd had to cast several hasty cleaning charms on himself and his sheets before going to the door. House elves were discrete, but that would have just been embarrassing.

Obviously there'd been someone else in the dream, but it was all dark. Albus didn't get a chance to see who it was. He tried to remember…He remembered big hands roaming all over him, tangling in his hair. He remembered running his hands through short hair as well—whoever it was had clearly been male. Of course it had been male. Albus wouldn't have…had… such a response if it hadn't.

He tried to remember more details…He remembered the breath in his ear, a distinct scent that he couldn't quite place. The deep moan on the lips of his dream lover…

He turned the shower water to cold with a shudder.

He was Albus Dumbledore, and he took his dreams very seriously. With an IQ higher than that of Leonardo Da Vinci, his subconscious rarely wasted his time with dreams like finding himself naked in the middle of a speech front of the whole school or running to get to class without having done his homework. No, Albus's dreams usually meant something, and though he was currently in the dark, so to speak, he was going to find out who he'd been dreaming of and what it meant.

Though, Albus suspected, a dream like that's meaning couldn't be too hard to interpret.

And he suspected there weren't too many options about whom it could have been.

* * *

It was Friday morning and Harry was introducing his fourth years to a vocabulary of useful defensive spells. He was focusing on the ones he'd learned in his fourth year to get through the maze in the third task. He'd started with _Expelliarmus_, which the students had mastered quickly, and progressed onto having them practice useful charms like _Impedimenta _and stunners. He'd taken the students up to the Room of Requirement. The room had recreated the maze it had erected for the first years with a few modifications. There were more enchanted objects that posed a threat to the students. There was even a bogart loose somewhere in the maze, from what Harry had heard from the emerging students.

The assignment was different this time, however. He'd asked the first years not to get stuck in the middle without calling for help, but the fourth years were required to make their ways all the way through. He sent two students from the same house at each time (so that they wouldn't curse each other). Only two students were in the maze at a time, so Harry spent the lesson teaching the other students new spells (though he frequently had to dive into the maze to rescue someone).

Harry saw sparks in the maze and excused himself from his students.

"Keep practicing that! Remember, it's '_reducto._' Don't point that at anyone but the dummies." He walked straight at the maze wall and a small gap melted open in front of him.

He walked through two, three, four, five walls before he came out next to Pius Thickneese who was being pinned to the wall by, what Harry suspected, was a vampire. The vampire was quite cliché. It wore a long red and black cloak and too much eye makeup. Oblivious to Harry, the vampire leaned in to Thicknesse and cocked his head to bite, the way vampires do.

"No, no! Ahh—no! Please, don't!" whimpered Thicknesse, helpless.

Harry didn't think he could give Thicknesse instructions effectively enough to get him out of trouble, so he pointed his wand at the vampire and called, "_Riddikulus!" _

There was a whip-crack and suddenly everything went dark and Harry couldn't move. Harry was encased in burning tar, and he couldn't move.

Flash.

The memory of Wister's body hitting the ground, and Harry didn't care.

Flash.

The memory of Fawkes exploding into a pile of ashes, and Harry didn't care.

Flash.

Harry was all-powerful and wanted the whole world at any means. Nothing would stop him.

The tar around Harry leeched and leeched.

* * *

Albus was sitting behind his desk looking through the lesson plans Harry had given him. Friday, September 13th read "4th years: Maze in RoR. 3rd task spells."

Albus steepled his fingers. RoR had to be the Room of Requirement, but Albus wondered what "3rd task spells" could possibly be. Finally, curiosity got the better of him and Albus swept out of his office to the escalator.

He was the headmaster. He could look in on classes if he wanted.

He reached the 7th floor corridor and found the patch of wall across from the tapestry of ballet trolls. He paced in front of it thinking about wanting to see Harry's lesson.

The door appeared and Albus smiled and opened it.

"_Reducto!"_

"_Reducto!"_

Students were practicing spells on dummies on one side of the room, but stopped when they caught sight of their headmaster.

"Oh, don't stop on account of me," smiled Albus. "I only wonder, where is Professor Crockett?"

"'E's in the maze, sir," replied Dorcas Meadows. "'E's with Pius, sir. They've been in their longer than they usually are, though, sir. 'E should be out soon."

Just as Meadows finished speaking, there was a bang from inside the maze. Albus and the students looked up to see red sparks floating somewhere in the middle.

Albus frowned. "I'll be back soon," he muttered. He walked straight at the wall of the maze. Like it had for Harry, part of the wall melted to give him a small doorway.

He walked through two, three, four, walls and then stopped. The wall in front of him had crumbled, as if it had been smashed with a wrecking ball. Behind the debris, Albus could see a spiraling black mass pulling at the light.

"Crockett!" he called.

"Help! Help!" he heard from behind the crumbled wall. Albus nimbly vaulted his way over the debris until he was in the adjoining hall. Thicknesse crouched against one side of the hall, wand in the air sending up a constant stream of sparks.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Where's Crockett?" Albus demanded.

Thicknesse pointed at the jagged black mass of crystal. "There was a vampire, sir, and then Professor Crockett appeared and—and he said it was ridiculous, or a spell or something, and then, all of a sudden this _thing _appeared where Professor Crockett was, and—"

"That's enough, Thicknesse, thank you," said Albus urgently. "Would you please join your classmates? Go back through that way." He pointed to the melted doorways behind him.

Thicknesse didn't have to be told twice. He scrambled over the broken stone and disappeared behind the wall.

Albus turned to the giant black crystal that was sucking light from the room. He raised his wand, and shouted "_Ridikkulus!" _

There was a crack and the crystal was gone. In its place, there were four men and one little girl. Three of the men were shouting, and shouting. Spells started firing between the three of them. Two of the spell casters faded; there were not important. The third, slim, auburn haired wizard raised his wand, and the little girl darted out in front and—

"_Riddikulus!" _shouted the fourth man. The three spell casters and the little girl vanished, and were replaced by a towering dementor.

Harry chuckled at the irony. He'd tried to force the boggart into something comforting. The ironic part was that the dementor _was _comforting.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _incanted Albus. A great, shining bird sprung from Albus' wand and swooped down on the Dementor. Harry squinted at it, trying to figure out what it was. If Harry had been looking at Albus, though, he would have seen a look of utter shock. Fawkes whistled in Harry's head and Harry remembered that they were in the middle of a fight.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _chimed Harry, adding his own phoenix patronus to the mix. The two birds swooped and dove over the dementor.

The dementor cowered and suddenly shifted into Gellert Grindelwald. Both patronuses faded.

"_Riddikulus!" _Harry and Albus shouted with equal venom. Harry wondered if this fear had been supplied by Albus's memory or Harry's jealousy. Either way, the boggart exploded under the force of the spells, and its remains drifted to the ground in sparks and dust.

Harry and Albus were both slightly out of breath.

Harry spoke first.

"I've never had that much trouble with a boggart before."

"I was wondering why you forced it to become a dementor, of all things."

"I wanted something comforting," chuckled Harry.

"You knew you could beat it?" guessed Albus.

Harry nodded, still catching his breath. "It was my first boggart. It's been my boggart since I was thirteen. I can beat both the boggart and the dementor, so I suppose it is comforting…expected. –It changed, obviously. My boggart changed…" Harry trailed off and frowned, remembering how the black crystal sucked at him, worse than a dementor because he knew it was all his fault.

He shook himself and changed the subject.

"What's your patronus?" he asked Albus. "I didn't get a good look at it."

"My patronus has always been a lion—Harry, the students." The distraction worked.

"Oh!" Harry closed his eyes, and with a thought he made the maze and debris disappear.

He put on his teacher face as he approached the frantically jabbering students. Casual. This happens every day.

"Sorry if I alarmed you. I got held up by a boggart." _That changed. _ "They're tricky to get rid of." _Very tricky. _"I'll teach you about them in a few weeks and show you how to kill them. For now, all you need to know is that they take the shape of whatever you fear most." Harry's worst fear had changed from dementors, fear itself, to the fear of his own darkness taking over and controlling him. He remembered his own disregard for life… and the power…where the dementor forced him to remember his worst memories, the crystal made him imagine what he could do at his worst. Harry knew that with the power he had, if he didn't have a conscience he could do worse things than anyone had ever done to him.

Harry shook himself out of his daze and looked down at his wizard's watch. It was time for lunch.

"For next lesson, please practice the spells you learned today. Focus on _reducto_ and _impedimenta_. It's time for lunch." Harry thought about having the door materialize outside the great hall, and then opened it to let the students out. Some of them looked around in disorient and surprise before exiting.

When all of the students had filed out, Harry turned to Albus.

"Lunch?"

Albus considered Harry for a moment, then his face opened up, excited. "Alas, no. I am meeting a friend for lunch. He and I have some, ah, business to attend to."

Harry faked a smile and refrained from prying.

"Oh, er, have fun. I'll just…be going, then," said Harry making for the door.

"Enjoy your lunch, Harry!"

Harry stepped out onto the flagstone entryway outside the great hall. The door vanished. Harry's fake smile faded into a glare and he stomped off to lunch.

* * *

**A/N: Next Chapter: **_**Who is that man?!**_** Halloween approaches. **


	28. The Underground Lake

**A/N: I'm introducing some new stuff in this chapter. Please tell me what you think so that I might weight how much of each to put in future chapters. Kaythanks.**

* * *

"So how did you get into transfiguration?" Harry called to Minerva over Albus's vacant chair. It was the fifth time that week Albus had missed a meal in the great hall. Harry had either been keeping to himself during meal times or talking to Pamona Sprout on his right for fear of upsetting Minerva, but he decided it was time to get over his fear.

"Well," Minerva started, raising her voice uncomfortably so that Harry could hear her, "in school, I—oh bother." She stood up and waved her wand. Her chair switched with Albus's so that she could sit next to Harry. Her food moved plates automatically, leaving her original plate spotless.

She continued her Scottish lilt at a more convenient decibel. "Albus taught me transfiguration in school. He was," she blushed, "inspiring. He always made transfiguration look like the most important art. I still use it the most—it comes in handy with other things like defense against the dark arts as well."

"Why did you want to teach?"

"I'm sure I could have done any number of things, but Albus is very convincing…and he's really an excellent wizard to work for, despite my complaining," she smiled. "I missed Hogwarts when I left. You'll find, if you haven't already, that it's a truly unique place. It's a home. –Besides that, I've always been an academic. Other work didn't satisfy me as much. I really loved learning in school, and teaching now—and I suppose I continue to learn. There's a lot of magic that I didn't learn in my seven years as a student at Hogwarts that I'm learning now."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"I, like Albus, have become interested in the study of wandless magic. Albus is interested in the ability to cast spells normally without a wand, but I confess my interests have become more specific."

"Oh?" asked Harry. Harry knew that the Professor Dumbledore in his time had become capable of an undetermined amount of wandless magic. Harry was interested in looking in on his study.

"Albus has always been interested in wandless magic. –He wants to experiment with the sort that's never been done by anyone. He does copious research on the subject and confers with old scholars and comes back very excited, but I don't think he's ever accomplished anything. He either really likes mooshing brains with other geniuses, or he just pretends to be excited so that nobody finds out he isn't getting anything done."

Harry chuckled, ignoring the prickle of frustration that Albus might be out mooshing his brain with random speculating scholars rather than he, Harry, who could do wandless magic perfectly well, thank you.

"So what are you studying?" asked Harry, wrenching himself away from the topic of Albus.

"Well, I've decided to study the difficult, rather than the impossible. I'm studying animagi."

"Oh! Yeah! Of course!" Harry exclaimed, having forgotten that Professor McGonagall had been an animagus. "I—that's fantastic."

"It's very difficult magic, of course, and I don't expect I'll ever—well, I'm just very interested in the theory."

"Are you considering trying to become an animagus?" asked Harry.

"Well, I haven't really…there's a lot more research I have to…The library has an astonishingly slim selection and I haven't gotten a chance to go find any elsewhere."

Harry frowned in thought and wondered—how had his father and Sirius found sufficient materials on the subject? If Minerva, a professor of transfiguration, was having trouble finding enough information to even satisfy her curiosity, let alone instruct her on the transformation, how could two teenage boys manage it?

Harry himself knew a bit about animagi themselves having spent time with Sirius, but he'd never considered the process for becoming one. After he'd defeated Voldemort, Harry had gone straight into studying for being an auror. He'd been more focused on getting the job than learning how to develop his own magical skills.

But Harry wasn't training for an auror's test, and he found he had significantly more time between grading essays than he did between dangerous missions. Maybe he should take on an educational project—it might take his mind off of Albus. Of course, a project like becoming an animagus, while immensely difficult for most witches and wizards, may prove to be simple for Harry.

Fawkes hummed in Harry's head.

Harry wondered what the difference would be between turning into a normal animal and a magical creature. Could Harry become an animagus with the form of a phoenix? Could anybody? He had a project.

He turned back to Minerva.

"That's incredible! I was just looking for the same information myself. I've always thought that becoming an animagus would be a good defense against the dark arts weapon. Do you want to work on it together?"

Minerva frowned at Harry's delayed response, picking up on his lie; he had not been looking for those materials, and he hadn't been thinking of becoming an animagus.

"What are you playing at?" she squinted.

"Ok, I wasn't looking for materials, but the project sounds interesting. I think I could help you—and I think it's a project that's more interesting with…er… more than one point of data."

"_You _could help _me?" _asked Minerva. "You may find flattery works better."

"Minerva whatever your middle name is McGonagall, may _I _please be a humble _witness _to your transfiguration genius? May _I _lend you the books that _I _buy about the subject?"

Minerva was pressing her lips together into their trademarked line until she heard the last sentence.

"You'll buy the books and supplies?" asked Minerva. "I don't think you can afford it on a teacher's wage, Crockett."

"Well, I said books…what supplies?"

"It's mostly a transfiguration process, but certain potions and magical objects are required. As I told you, I don't really understand yet."

"Yeah, alright," said Harry. "I'll get all of it. Just let me know what we'll need."

Minerva grinned like a sister who'd tricked her younger brother into the smaller bowl of ice cream. She probably suspected that Harry didn't know what kind of financial commitment he was getting into. It was true; Harry didn't know exactly what would be required of him, but he was only supporting himself, living at Hogwarts, and knew the future, so it didn't matter, really.

"Tomorrow's Saturday. Do you want to take a trip to Diagon Alley to look for books?" asked Harry.

"I already have a list," Minerva smiled.

"Would you like me to get them for you, ma'am," mocked Harry.

"No, I suppose I'll have to come and make sure you don't foul it up…" she grinned. "Does funding my operation include lunch?"

"Naturally," smiled Harry.

"That doesn't make it a date," she said warningly.

"Really not," replied Harry flatly.

* * *

"_Oh teacher I need you like a little child__  
__You got something in you to drive a schoolboy wild__  
__You give me education in the lovesick blues__  
__Help me get straight come out and say__  
__Teacher I, teacher I, teacher I, Teacher I need you"_

Harry sat up in his bed, squinting in the Saturday morning light and refrained from cursing the record player into smithereens. The record on the turn table wasn't even the one with part of his soul in it—Harry never kept _his _record on the turn table for fear of what would happen if it started playing. In fact, Harry'd never played _his_ record. Physical contact with it was potent enough. Harry didn't really want to know what happened if he actually _played _it.

Despite the fact that the other records weren't part of Harry's soul, they did a good enough job on their own of picking songs to fit what was going on in Harry's head. Harry suspected that maybe the turntable had evolved to have a sense of humor or something.

Elton John reached another chorus and Harry waved his hand to shut off the turntable. Harry got dressed, packed his bag, and exited his tower. Harry walked through the seventh floor hallway on the way down to breakfast, but he stopped when he heard the sound of the stone escalator grinding to life. Without thinking, he pulled on his invisibility cloak and detoured to the bottom of the escalator, listening silently.

He heard a knock on the door above and held his breath.

"Good morning," he heard Albus say, muffled by distance. An energetic male voice responded.

"Hello Albus, thanks for inviting me."

"I thought we'd be more comfortable here. I hope you'll pardon the inconvenience," Albus replied.

"Ah, Albus. The inconvenience is insignificant compared to what is to transpire between us. I love being back at Hogwarts, too. It really has been an age." Albus chuckled and the voice continued. "And truthfully, I'd rather not have my wife walk in on us."

"She's a wonderful woman. I can't help feel guilty that I'm taking you away from her."

"Don't worry about me and my wife. We've spend enough time together that she won't mind giving me up to you for a while. She knows I need this—anyone would. She has her own…hobbies."

Albus chuckled. "Well, why don't you come in. Would you like some tea before we start?"

"Yes, please," Harry heard. There was light shuffling and Harry heard the door close.

Harry came back to his senses and realized that he'd been eavesdropping. He stood invisibly for a moment, going over the conversation in his mind.

_Who is that man?_

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by pair of Ravenclaw girls giggling down the hall, their poodle skirts swinging around them. Harry pressed himself against the wall to avoid a collision. As soon as they had passed, Harry pulled off the cloak and made his way to breakfast.

* * *

"Would you like to apparate or fly?" Harry asked Minerva.

"Apparating is faster," said Minerva. "I don't want to carry a broom around. You _can _apparate, right?" she teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can tie a duel with Albus Dumbledore, but no, I'm sorry, I can't apparate," he replied, leading the way out of the entry hall onto the grounds.

"Don't tell Albus I said this, but I think you were lucky to tie with him—and none of us even know what happened at the end. You both disappeared. What _did _happen?"

"I—we—we were mutually incapacitated."

'The paint?"

"To get us out…but, obviously, it was too late."

"Out of what, exactly?" she asked as they reached the gate.

"Why, our incapacitation, of course," Harry smiled evasively, holding the massive gate open.

"Harry—"

"Flourish and Blots, then?" interrupted Harry.

Minerva sighed. "Yes, yes."

They dissapperated (Harry with an intentionally loud crack) and appeared in Diagon Alley, startling a few shoppers.

"Shall we go in, then?" asked Minerva.

Harry nodded and led the way.

"What do you think, instructional or theory?" he asked.

"Both," said Minerva.

They made their way through the heaped isles and began digging in a promising section. They were done after an hour or so of flipping through books, occasionally making noises of interest and adding books to a growing pile to purchase. They ended up leaving with a factual book about animagus theory, a journal detailing a man named Elrond's Account of Becoming an Animagus, a book talking about the different animal forms animagi choose and how and why, and a very vague how-to guide. Harry, as promised, bought the books and the two professors exited the shop.

"And now lunch?" asked Minerva.

"Sure," replied Harry.

"I get to pick the restaurant."

"Fine, as long as the food is good."

"That's not what I'd worry about if I were you," smirked Minerva, her eyes darting in the direction of a very fancy looking restaurant front.

Harry frowned. "I have a feeling we'll need to stop at Gringotts first."

They weaved through the alley until they reached the towering white edifice. Harry had avoided visiting Gringotts since he arrived in the past. He'd opened his account in person, but had most of his earnings sent straight to his vault. He had a small percentage sent to him directly for use. He avoided the establishment, though, because of its magic. There was something that made him uncomfortable about its magical signature. When Harry'd gone to set up his account, he felt the building's sentient energy reach out and scrutinize him. The building was alive in the same way that Hogwarts was alive, except that its personality was hostile and guarded rather than quirky and mysterious.

Harry could feel all of the spells, enchantments, curses, and entities protecting the treasure beneath. Not all of it was good magic; Gringotts was clearly designed to be safe by any means. Harry realized how lucky he'd been when he'd escaped the Lestranges' vault with only a few burns (and a dragon). Harry suspected that something in the magic had recognized Harry's intentions and mission and had begrudgingly made his job easier.

Minerva pointed to the words engraved on the silver doors.

"I always wonder if anyone's ever robbed Gringotts successfully…I mean, how would you even go about that?"

Harry smirked "Well, for starters you get a Goblin on your side," he said. "There's all kinds of mad stuff down there. Enchantments, dragons… The only reason I'd do it is, um, to save the world or something…"

"Crockett, you are so pretentious," Minerva laughed. "I bet you reckon you could rob Gringotts if you wanted."

Harry faked a fit of coughing to hide a laugh as they passed through the doors.

"I think a dragon by itself would be too much for you," Minerva snickered.

"Well, actually…I've um…dealt a bit with dragons," said Harry a little indignant.

"I didn't know they had dragons in zoos these days," said Minerva.

Harry tapped his fingers on the counter in mock irritation.

"You're telling me you've killed a dragon, Crockett?"

"Well, no. I, er, rode one once. And I…there was this Hungarian Horntail and I had to take one of its eggs…"

"Rubbish. Show me the memories or I won't believe you."

"Do you want something or can I go do something important?" sneered the goblin from behind the counter, startling both Harry and Minerva.

"Sorry. I would like to go to my vault, please," replied Harry.

The Goblin squinted at Harry for a moment. "Of course, Mr. _Crockett_," he replied before turning and walking through a door behind the counter.

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. He'd never met this goblin and Harry'd only been to Gringotts once in this time. How had the goblin known his name? –Where had he gone?

"Where has he gone?" asked Minerva.

Harry frowned. "I don't know."

The door behind the counter banged open and a horde of goblins flooded out chattering excitedly (though "excited" looks rather more like "malicious" on a goblin).

"What's all this?" asked Harry.

"We are going to your vault, sir," sneered one of the goblins.

"Er, all of us?"

"It is an Old Vault, sir."

"What do you mean, I just—" Harry stopped himself from saying he only opened the vault a year previously. That would look suspicious in front of Minerva. He took a breath.

"What, do you need the clankers?" he asked, incredulous.

The goblins all glared at Harry.

"It is not that kind of vault."

"Right, at least _that_ makes sense," said Harry. The goblins started filing towards the door to the cart tunnels. As they went, more stocky figures from around the bank joined them. Harry and Minerva joined the train. Harry tried to count the Goblins—maybe there were fifteen?

"What's this all about, Crockett?" asked Minerva.

"I don't know…"

"Has this ever happened before?"

"I—no."

"How old is your vault? I've never heard the name Crockett before. How deep is it?"

"I don't know, I—"

"Haven't you ever been there?"

"Well, yes I—"

Minerva frowned and pursed her lips.

"Alright, I mail in my pay to deposit, and mail request withdraws. I've never actually been down to this vault. –And it's not my family's vault. I opened it myself a few years ago. I don't know what they're talking about."

"Maybe someone's line ended and a space freed up down there, and you opened your account just in time to get the vault," mused Minerva.

"I have a feeling there are old families that would swipe those very quickly in that event…"

The goblins began loading themselves into a train of carts at least ten carts long. One goblin handed Harry a lamp. At their gestured instruction, Harry and Minerva got into the front of the train, leaving the last two carts empty. Without warning, the train lurched forward and began accelerating downward. Harry scrambled to keep hold of the lamp.

Harry was sure the train of carts moved at least twice the speed of one cart by itself. The train took a left, a right, and stopped abruptly, much sooner than Harry expected. There was a small bronze door in the wall that Harry was sure was designed for goblin entrance.

"Stay in the cart," quipped one goblin.

"Er, is this my vault?" Harry asked.

"No. This is where we have held your gold until now."

"Why didn't you put it in my vault?"

The goblins muttered to each other in Gobbledigook.

"We don't have any of the keys to open your vault."

"I don't have a key…" volunteered Harry.

They ignored him and opened the small door. Some of the goblins filed in and started grabbing great brown sacks that jangled jollily. The Goblins brought the bags back out and heaved them into the carts at the back of the train. When the chamber was empty and the two carts at the back of the train were full, the goblins started piling back into their seats.

Minerva and Harry exchanged a series of glances throughout the stop, and both had thoroughly furrowed their brows by the time the carts lurched forward again.

The train gathered speed and took a right, then another right, and a left and then took the middle fork and Harry lost track. Then the cave wall to the right of the track fell away and the underground lake was exposed, stretching along their side. Harry squinted, but he couldn't se the opposite bank through a blanket of mist.

Suddenly the cart lurched to the right, off the track, straight towards the lake. Minerva screamed and Harry held his breath. The goblins were muttering excitedly. Minerva was still screaming, but Harry noticed that the cart was still moving smoothly, or as smoothly as it ever did. He looked down, but couldn't see any track—or anything. The cart was rolling along several inches off the cavern floor. Minerva stopped screaming, and Harry saw her peering over the side of the cart, her mouth open.

Then the train was rolling over the undisturbed mirror of water, straight towards the center of the lake. The mist unfolded in front of Harry and Minerva's eyes, and there was still no track beneath the train. Harry looked back and could no longer see the bank, nor could he see the bank in front of the train, if there was one.

And then Harry saw it—a pit in the water. There was an ellipse on the surface of the lake where there was clearly no water. Because of the train's smooth movement, the hole looked like a disk sliding towards them, closer and closer until---the train stopped suddenly along its edge.

Beside Harry and the train was, indeed, a giant stone basin with a radius of, Harry guessed, five meters. Its depth was similar to its breath, making the whole thing a large, round room. The still water rested all around the top of the wall of this sunken room, but not a drop slipped inside. This edge, as Harry had observed, was perfectly circular, but closer Harry could see a slick stone staircase curving down from where the train had stopped.

Without thinking, Harry got out of the cart, stepping into the lake. His foot sunk a few inches into the reflective pool, but hit solid ground. Harry looked down at his feet, ankles deep in completely still water. A hand grasped his upper arm and he turned to see Minerva.

Harry read Minerva's creased face and nodded to her reassuringly before turning back towards the sunken cylinder. They were silent. If Harry hadn't been so caught up in the moment, he would have been awed by just their change in mood between earlier in the day and then, at the lake.

Harry descended the steps…and before he could whisper "_lumos_," there was light coming from four places in the sunken room. There were three doors along the circular wall, and each had a glowing figure, as if drawn with the tail of a firefly. One was a triangle. One was a circle. One was a line.

The fourth light came from the floor, and Harry didn't have to look to know what it was.

The symbol of the Deathly Hallows glowed up at him in the dark cavern.

Harry's voice cracked as he called out of the room. "This is my vault?"

* * *

**A/N: Mmmyeah, this might raise a lot of questions for purists. (**_**Cough**_** jump **_**wheeze**_** shark **_**hack**_** nuke **_**splutter **_**fridge **_**sneeze**_**) I'll answer and explain in coming chapters. I do have plans. I won't leave holes; I promise. Review! Thanks!**


	29. The Vault

**A/N: This is the longest chapter I've ever written. Yay! And now I'm publishing at midnight and I have to get up at 6:30 tomorrow. Smart. –The grammatical errors resulting from that should be fun…Um, let's see…100 points if you get my "A Very Potter Musical" reference. Note for purists at the bottom. Enjoy! Review!**

* * *

_Last chapter: The symbol of the Deathly Hallows glowed up at him in the dark cavern. Harry's voice cracked as he called out of the room. "This is my vault?"_

"Yes, this is your vault. You have the key," Harry heard echoed over the rim of the well from one of the Goblins.

Harry retreated back up the stairs so that his head poked up and he could see the train. He now understood why so many goblins had come to see Harry's vault. He wondered how long it had been since someone had last opened any of them.

"How many keys are there?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"The legend says there is one for each of the vaults around the wall. You need all three to get into the fourth vault. We will bring your gold down now into the vault, hmm?" asked one of the goblins.

"No," said Harry quickly and instinctually. Harry hadn't trusted goblins since Griphook betrayed them in the Lestrange vault. –And for some reason, he felt that the goblins would be an intrusion in the Peverell vaults. Harry made eye contact with Minerva. "Minerva can help me." She nodded.

Harry climbed out of the chamber and made toward the back of the train. The goblins glared bitterly as he passed. Harry grabbed the top of one of the bags of gold and heaved. The bag didn't move and the goblins snickered.

"Only a goblin is strong enough to carry the bags of Gringotts," sneered a goblin.

Harry looked at the goblin. Without breaking eye contact, he quickly focused on his body aura to adjust his strength. He tugged on the bag again and hoisted it over his shoulder with relative ease and marched it to the rim of the antechamber. He turned to look at Minerva. "Don't worry about it. I'll get them. Sorry, it's going to take a few minutes."

Minerva rolled her eyes.

"Are you a wizard or what? _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ she incanted, pointing her wand at the piles of bags. They rose out of the cart, over Harry's head, and sunk into the antechamber.

"Right, um, I'll just, ah…" Harry flicked his wand over his shoulder at the bag and sent it to join the rest at the foot of the stairs. He looked back at Minerva.

"After you," she said quietly. They descended the stairs.

"_Muffliato!" _Harry said. "Right. Now the goblins can't hear us."

"And I don't think they can see us," said Minerva. "I could only see the room when you were on the stairs."

"What?" asked Harry.

"It was just more water—I didn't see any of this—" she gestured around them, "—until you were on the stair—and then it went away again when you were at the bottom. How did you know it was here?"

"I saw it," said Harry.

"But you've never been here?"

"I should probably explain."

"You lied?"

"No, but I owe you my theories about what's going on," he told her. "Erm, were you raised in a wizarding family?"

"I am pure blood," she replied without any particular feeling.

"Ah, um, ok," said Harry, stalling for time while he tried to figure out whether or not to tell her about his relation to the three brothers of the Hallows and how to explain the situation if he didn't want to give that away. "Well, so, um…"

"Spit it out, Crockett."

"So, my most valuable possession…is an invisibility cloak that my father left me when he died. I don't have anything else from them except my good looks—" he grinned, trying to diffuse the moment. Minerva smiled indulgently, but tapped her foot for him to continue. "It's a very special cloak. It's supposed to be very old, very valuable, and very powerful. It's part of a set of three magical objects, one of which, I think, opens one of these doors. I don't think I've carried the cloak with me to Gringotts since I came of age…so…The goblins must have set something up to tell them when it's in the building…"

That was false. He had brought the cloak with him the night he robbed Gringotts, but maybe the Goblins had been too preoccupied with their breaking to notice any sort of alert to the presence of one of the Hallows. –And maybe after, the dragon destroyed the track? –But it didn't matter. He was there and needed to figure out what to do.

"So, do you know what's inside?" Minerva asked, hiding her burning curiosity badly.

"Er, no. I have a feeling some of these haven't been opened in centuries, though. The vaults are probably significantly older than the Hogwarts Founders, though they may have been accessed since the death of their original owners…I think at some point Slytherin had the key to _that _vault." Harry pointed to the great stone door with the glowing circle on it.

Harry pulled out the cloak. "_This,_ should open _that _vault," said Harry, pointing at the door with the triangle.

"Are you going to open it?"

"Hmm, yes," said Harry, not moving.

"Well, get on with it then, or the goblins will leave and we'll starve to death down here." Harry laughed at her impatience.

"Ok, hold on," said Harry. He strode over to the door with the triangle, Minerva in tow. "Hold on…I suppose…this should work—" He swung the cloak over himself and vanished. The moment he was covered, the door vanished from view and Harry could see into what looked like a high ceilinged, remarkably well lit sitting room. He peered in curiously and stepped over the threshold.

"Are you coming, Minerva?"

"Coming where, Crockett? I suppose I'll come in when you get it open—why isn't it working?"

Harry came back across the threshold and pulled off the cloak. The great stone door was firmly in its place. Harry grinned.

"Put this on."

Minerva looked at him warily and took the cloak in her hands. She swung it over herself self consciously and vanished.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed invisibly.

Harry grinned again and groped the air until he found the fabric of the cloak. He pulled it off Minerva and then swung it over both of them.

"Let's go in, then," he said when they'd both vanished.

They shuffled a little awkwardly over the threshold and into the sitting room in the vault.

"Can we take off the cloak?" asked Minerva.

"Yeah, I think so," said Harry. He ducked out from under the cloak. "It's fine," he told the space where Minerva was. She reappeared.

Uncovered, they looked around the room. It was, as it had appeared, a sitting room. There were two couches and one great armchair that Harry suspected would be the prize display in a museum. Between the sitwear was a low wooden table. Around the walls of the room was a clock that clearly predated the invention of pendulum, spring or crystal clocks, two great wardrobes, three cabinets, a desk of drawers, a squat trunk, and a wide wooden door.

"Huh."

Frankly, Harry had been expecting piles of gold, though now that he thought about it, that didn't seem likely.

"Whoever it was sure liked their furniture," said Minerva.

Harry snorted. "Um, feel free to make yourself comfortable. I'm going to poke around."

"Funny, Crockett," said Minerva, following Harry as he strode over to the desk. There was a worn letter on top. Harry picked it up and walked back to one of the ancient couches and sat down.

"Fancy a look?" Harry asked Minerva. She lowered herself into a seat next to Harry and looked over his shoulder.

"It's your vault, of course, Crockett. I wouldn't pry into your business. It's—"

"You can look, Minerva." Harry carefully slipped the yellowing, creased parchment out of its envelope. It was smooth, but brittle so Harry unfolded it gently so that it did not crumble. There was a message inked onto the page in dark black cursive. The writing was deliberate and embellished by a well practiced hand to the point where Harry could barely read it.

"_Descendant, _

"_Though I know not from whence thou hast come, I hasten to welcome thee to myne—and at this tyme, thine vault. Think not upon your entry as trespass, for tis ábád if thou art mine posterity. This vault hath been created __'tween mine abered brothers in a tyme offe stryfe. Our ways were dyfferent and we found a way to keepe our peace and tryst without the ayd of vylence or spelles. These vaults contayn our separate treasures and possessions offe importance. As thou has dyscovered, the Hallowes of Death are the keys. _

"_In thine entry, thou has likely notice'ed the fourth gyte inne the roome. It is a porte to our shayred family inheritance. Our dysagreement centred arounde who would inherette it upon our deaths. As a compromyse, we hath decided that it shalt be open to whomsoever comes across all three of our legacys. Thou need'est to master all three Halowes to entyr. Mine brothers have perished and thyr Hallowes hath vanished, so I fyre itte wilt be seal'ed foreveremore upon my deathe. _

"_In addition to our combyned keepe, we invysted inne these pryvatte vaults. The vault offe mine brothers may be plundred by whomsoever hast robbed thyr Hallowes, but I planne to imparte mine unto my son. Upon me was bestow'ed the Cloake of Invisibily, and inne my Vault I shalt store objects of yse and magyck and sentimentality. Thou, mine descendant, shalt not be able to remove more than thou deservest. Thou shalt not store what is not thine to keep. Thou may'est yse mine artifacts as thine for thine objectyves iffe what thou dost with them is careful and thou bestow'est them with respecte. _

"_May thou succeed in thine endevoures, childe. And offe mine Cloake: yse it well." _

Harry laughed out loud.

"_Hǽl from thine deceased aynsestyr,_

"_-Ignotus Peverell"_

"Huh," said Harry again when he'd stopped laughing at "yse it well."

"Hmm," said Minerva.

"Well, I suppose we've got to poke around a little, then," said Harry.

"Really, Crockett, I'd rather go get lunch," said Minerva sarcastically. Harry grinned.

"Alright, pick a cabinet," said Harry.

"What about the door?" asked Minerva.

"Oh right, that too." said Harry.

Minerva stood up and closed her eyes. She spun slowly on the spot like a child playing hide-and-seek, and then pointed randomly. Her finger was stretched out towards the desk.

"Alright, then," said Harry, standing. They strode back over to the desk. Harry put the letter back on top, and put his hand on the brass handle to the top drawer on the left.

"Here goes nothing…"

He pulled and the drawer slid out with unexpected ease. On top was a primitively bound notebook, which Harry lifted out carefully. On the cover was written "_Drawings offe Ignotus_." The book was better preserved than the letter had been, and significantly less brittle. Harry felt spells on the paper and binding that held it together and protected it. Despite this, it was with the utmost caution that he gently leafed it open. Minerva and Harry both gasped with interest as the pages opened. Upon the leaves were masterful illustrations. The one they'd opened to was of three men. Under each detailed figure was scrawled a name: "Ignotus, Cadmus, Antioch." Harry bent closer and examined their miniature faces. He turned the page to find an illustration of a woman with long dark hair holding a baby. Harry assumed they were Ignotus' wife and child. He turned the page again, and there was an image of a bridge over a rushing river. On the left bank stood three men, and standing in the middle of the bridge was a foreboding cloaked figure.

The image was identical to the one in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

"Huh," he said.

"Crockett, is that…um…that's familiar," said Minerva.

"Yeah." Harry shut the book and looked back in the drawer.

He pulled out another notebook. On the cover was written "_The Tale offe Three Brothers" _and "_bye Ignotus Peverell."_ Harry groaned inwardly. There was no way he was going to keep anything from Minerva. Harry opened the cover to find a note on the inside.

"_May this storee be tol'ed as a cautionary tayle. I am asham'ed and saddened that my brothers hath thrown away thyr lives thus and wante to prevente thys tragedy in the futyr. I do not wysh to publysh thys mynself, as I respecte thyr memories and pryvacy, bute yea who fynds thys, thou may'est publysh itte ynder thine name and take creddite._

"_-Ignotus Peverell"_

Harry flipped the page and recognized the beginning of the classic story _The Tale of Three Brothers _that had so puzzled Hermione in their journey to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes.

A loose piece of parchment fell out of the book as Harry flipped a page. Minerva, who'd been reading over Harry's shoulder the whole time, stooped, picked up the piece of parchment, and held it out to Harry who made to read it. He didn't read it, however, because it was in Ancient Runes. He frowned.

"Do you read runes?" he asked Minerva. She took the paper and began translating aloud with fluency he wouldn't have expected out of Hermione.

"'I, Beedle, descendant of Ignotus, have published _The Tale of Three Brothers_ in my collection of fairy tales. Despite the forward from Ignotus—' wow, Beedle's handwriting was bad '—I feel obligated to state my dire wishes that this isn't looked upon as plagiarism. I hope that all who read my tales may take away how to coexist with their fellow wizards and find prosperity and happiness. –Beedle,'" she read.

"That explains a lot," said Harry.

"It explains a lot in the same way that 'my hair is purple because the people on the moon didn't have any other colors' explains a lot," said Minerva. "Harry, I feel like I don't know you at all anymore."

"Minerva, please," Harry begged. "For a huge part of my life I was judged only on what people knew about my parents and stuff that happened to me when I was a baby. –I don't want that. I want people to see me for what I do, how I act, rather than what vault key I didn't know I had. Please."

"Harry, finding this could change your whole life. –And I don't understand the difference between finding this vault and knowing you're related to Beedle the Bard and—"

"Ok, through some, er, adventures I had as a teenager, I found out I was related to this guy Ignotus. My parents weren't alive to tell me—if they knew at all. I learned about these…Hallows, and that my cloak was one of them, and I decided I didn't need my life to be any more interesting! I don't want to be famous. I don't want people to know what this is!" he waved the cloak around.

Minerva pursed her lips. "I don't know whether that's selfish or commendable."

"I assure you it's commendable," grinned Harry, breaking the tension in the moment. Minerva failed to pretend she wasn't smiling.

"Oh, wait until Albus finds out about this…he loves old magical legends."

Harry looked stricken. "Minerva. You can't tell him. Please. You can't tell anyone—most of all, Albus." Albus couldn't find out. He'd understand everything. Harry knew that Albus had spent years of his life looking for the Stone…and Harry knew where it was. He didn't want to know what Albus would do…didn't want to face that…Didn't want to create that painful and inevitably disappointing choice for Albus…

Minerva widened her eyes, incredulous.

"Well, why did you let me come in?"

"I wasn't going to leave you all alone with those goblins, was I?"

"I can take care of myself!"

"Well, I—"

"I bet you didn't want to come in here alone, you were—"

"You think I was scared of a vault, Minerva?"

"Well, maybe you wanted to show off after all—"

"Or maybe…._not._"

"Alright, I won't tell anyone. –Just…don't _obliviate _me or anything."

Harry looked exaggeratedly offended, though, frankly, the idea of wiping her memory didn't sound horrible. It was better than the idea of Albus—or everyone in the wizarding world— finding out about the Peverell vaults and that Harry knew the location of all three Hallows. But Harry decided to trust Minerva's word.

"I won't. Just…please don't tell anyone about this. When we're done poking around, I'm, um, going to stick my gold in a corner somewhere and try not to disturb too much. Ok, um…next drawer?"

Minerva nodded enthusiastically. Harry put the two notebooks back into the first drawer, closed it, and pulled the second one open. Inside was a stack of published copies of "_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_." Harry nodded and shut the drawer, and moved to the top one on the right. It was full of what looked like letters, as was the drawer beneath it. Each of the envelopes had a name and a year on the front. After glancing at a few, Harry deduced that each of the letters had been written by an heir of the vault. Harry pulled one out at random and looked at the name.

"Godric Gryffindor," Minerva read.

"Um, wow," said Harry.

"Harry…you're a descendant of him, too?" she almost moaned.

"Well, I suppose a lot of people are," excused Harry lamely. "I _was _born in Godric's Hollow."

Harry slipped the letter out of its sheath, unfolded it, and began to read aloud.

"'I, Godric Gryffindor, have made the following changes to the contents of this vault.'" He showed the letter to Minerva who read with increasing interest.

There were two columns. Under "Withdraws" were "100 galleons," "_Swordsmanship of the Early Days_ (to be returned upon my death)," and "_Magic and the Castles of Scotland_ (returned after the adaptation of the Hogwarts castle).

Under "Deposits," were, "Suit of Armor (delivered upon my death)," "Ruby Encrusted Sword (though I have enchanted our House Sorting Hat to present the sword in times of need to those in my house at Hogwarts)," "1000 galleons," "Portrait of Godric Gryffindor," "Scarf of Sexual Preference," "_A Headmaster's Guide to Hogwarts_," "The Mirror of Erised," (Harry coughed) "Armor of my familiar Lion, Rumbleroar," and "One Way Vanishing Cabinet to the Gryffindor Head of House Quarters." Harry stopped reading and smirked at Minerva.

"I could get into your bedroom any time I wanted," snickered Harry.

"Well, let's find the Scarf of Sexual Preference and then we'll see if I actually have to be worried," smirked Minerva. "Look and see if there's a one way vanishing cabinet to the headmaster suite." Harry looked a little like he'd been punched in the stomach. He hid it quickly.

"I'll lend it to you if there is one," he rebutted. It was Minerva's turn to look stunned. They both looked back at the page and read the next line.

They both burst out laughing because it read "one way Vanishing Cabinet to Headmaster's Suite."

Harry folded up the page and put it back into the envelope.

"Well, I figure I should go through all of those, but in the meantime, why don't we look around a little more," said Harry.

"Alright," said Minerva, still giggling a little.

"So, those big wardrobes are probably the vanishing cabinets," said Harry. "Shall we check the door?" he asked, gesturing to the wide wooden door on the wall. Minerva nodded.

Harry strode over to the door and yanked it open. "After you," he gestured. Minerva strode through it and Harry heard her gasp. He followed her inside and re-uttered her gasp as he looked around. If he'd thought the sitting room was high ceilinged, it was nothing compared with this room. Lining the walls were shelves at least twenty meters tall filled mostly with books. Though a library normally feels claustrophobic and stuffy, the high ceilings, and slick, empty marble floor, gave the room an airy, open feel.

"Crikey," breathed Harry. Minerva was already moving towards a section of shelf.

"This has a label on it—this section was put here by Beedle. And over here—" she was moving over, "—this section—this was from, wow! I know this name…he must have been a headmaster at Hogwarts. And here's a whole section on potions here…and over here there's…--it looks like Gryffindor wasn't exactly booky compared to some of your, er, ancestors."

Minerva kept chattering, but Harry had moved to the other side of the great room. There was a section of the wall that was not occupied with books. Instead, there was a row of artifacts that unobtrusively lined the edge of the room. There was a proud, gemmed suit of armor that matched the sword of Gryffindor. Its posture was expressive, like it was still supported by the famous man who'd once worn it. Its gloved hand rested on something else—another postured figure. There was the armored outline of a giant lion under the affectionate hand of Godric's suit. The leather behind its mane was engraved _Rumbleroar_.

Light reflected into Harry's eye and he looked around for the source. His eyes rested on a familiar silhouette just off the wall. Harry sealed himself, and walked over to it.

The Mirror of Erised looked the same as Harry remembered, except that perhaps it felt a little smaller since he had grown about a foot since he'd seen it last. Harry pressed his lips together and slid himself directly in front of the mirror.

The image itself was simple, but it said much more than it would have had it been a photograph or even real life.

The image was of Harry, his green eyes shining behind his glinting glasses. Next to him, linked by an interlaced hand, was Albus Dumbledore. Albus winked a blue eye at the onlooking Harry, and turned to look at the Harry in the mirror. Harry's reflection turned to meet Albus's glance and they smiled as if they were reflections of each other. Harry sighed and tore his glance away. For good measure, he conjured a length of red fabric floating in the air and draped it over the mirror.

Harry heard a tiny pop to his right and he looked around. Had it come from the shelf? He walked over to the shelf that was not covered in books and poked around.

He heard the pop again, closer. Harry magically increased his hearing. He looked back at the shelf and found a label. "_To Be Gifts_," it said. Harry finally located the source of the pop on its third iteration. It came from above him—from a watch that Harry couldn't quite see—he stood on his toes, reached out and grabbed it, nearly toppling over in his effort to reach. Once he regained his balance, he looked at the watch.

"Huh," he said for the millionth time that day. "Gifts, hmm? Alright." He looked back down at the watch. Twelve hands were spread around its face, pointing at the various planets around the edge. "Huh," said Harry, and suddenly he understood what the face meant, though he couldn't have explained it to anyone. "Oh!" he said, glancing at it with new understanding. "Minerva! We'll miss dinner!"

"Oh, bother," he heard from across the room. "Crockett, if we leave now, you'll never let me come back!"

"I will, I will. You think I'm going to sort through all this on my own? And I'm not going to tell anyone else. That leaves you. Come on, let's go."

They hurried back into the sitting room and Harry threw the cloak over them. They shuffled quickly back into the dark, circular antechamber where Harry's gold still sat and dashed up the stairs and—and the train and the goblins were gone.

"Oy! Lame!" exclaimed Harry. He sunk back down the stairs to Minerva. "Er, they left."

Minerva snorted. "Lovely. Treacherous buggers."

"So, um, should we swim or do you think we can levitate each other or…"

Minerva giggled.

"What? You aren't intimidated by the fact that we're _stuck in the bottom of the Gringotts lake with no train?_" asked Harry, exasperated.

"Crockett, the cabinets."

"I'd love to keep looking through this stuff, but, as you said, we may _starve to death _down here! And someone might miss us if we do that," said Harry with increasingly frantic sarcasm. He knew he could probably get out himself, but he'd have to mess with Gringott's magic and he _really _didn't want to do that.

"Crockett, you…" Minerva was either so frustrated or amused that she was having trouble finding words. "The _vanishing _cabinets, Crockett."

"I—Oh. Right." Harry coughed. He put the invisibility cloak back on them before Minerva could take the Mickey any more. He levitated the bags of gold with his wand, and walked with Minerva back into the sitting room. He lowered the bags back to the ground while Minerva pulled off the cloak.

There was a clunk from the side of the room. Harry and Minerva looked around, startled.

The lid to the large, squat trunk had flown open of its own accord. The clunk had been the result of the lid hitting the wall behind it. Harry edged towards it and peered over the side. Inside, the walls were significantly farther apart than those of the trunk. In fact, it looked about the size of a room, but Harry couldn't tell the depth because a meter below the top of the trunk was a floor of golden galleons.

Harry snorted. Ignotus may have been noble and humble and all that, but he and his descendants had certainly amassed a fortune. Harry levitated all but one of the bags from behind him and magically instructed them to pour themselves out into the trunk. He took the last bag, shrunk it, lightened it, and put it into the auror bag that he kept with him always. He shut the lid of the trunk.

"What was in there?"

"Um, gold," said Harry.

"I bet," muttered Minerva.

Harry chuckled. "Like I said, you can pick the restaurant…We can go tomorrow, if you want. It's a bit late for lunch now. Or dinner."

"I am feeling rather famished," admitted Minerva. "What time is it?"

Harry looked at the planet watch he'd pulled from the shelf. "Eight. Let's get going. We might catch the end of dinner in the castle if we hurry."

They looked around the sitting room. The two wardrobes—or vanishing cabinets, as they were, stood next to each other.

"Which one should we use?" asked Harry.

"We should use this one," said Minerva, pointing to the one on the right.

"Is there one that looks like a wardrobe in your room?"

"Yep," said Minerva. "And I know which one it is. Let's use this one," she said, pointing to the one on the right again.

"Ok," said Harry. He opened the door and held it open for her. It was open. She stepped inside, and Harry followed her in. "I hope this works…"

There was a wooshing noise, and suddenly Harry felt fabric, mainly silk, hanging all around his shoulders and face.

"Minerva! What's all this silk? Your clothing? Why don't you ever wear—"

"Shh!" came Minerva's voice. Harry made to open the door, but Minerva stopped him. With Harry's enhanced hearing he heard her stifle a giggle. Then he heard something else.

A man laughing.

"Albus, I've blood all over my trousers. What will my wife say?"

Harry heard Albus musical laugh join the other man. "I've no idea what she'll say, but I think even she'd be impressed if she found out we'd figured out how to do it twelve different ways—let's not tell her, though."

Harry felt his face flush with…with…before he could figure it out, with a strangled cry, he'd burst through the cabinet door and into the room beyond. Before him stood Albus Dumbledore and a man wearing a crimson cape that Harry didn't recognize. Both of them were splattered with blood, and their wands were drawn in shock.

"_Stupif—"_

"No, wait!" cried Albus, jumping on the unfamiliar man's wand hand before the spell could fly towards Harry. The spell hit the floor instead, singing the rug.

"Albus? What is the meaning of this? Who is this man? Has he been in your wardrobe the whole—Minerva?"

Minerva had emerged from the wardrobe, her glasses a little askew. She smiled cheerfully. "Hello, Nicholas."

* * *

**A/N: Ok, ok, ok…So I most **_**definitely**_** put Rumbleroar and the Scarf of Sexual Preference in my fic. They're from A Very Potter Musical. If you haven't seen that yet, please do. It's on youtube. It's a full length musical. It's **_**excellent. **_**Speaking of Rumbleroar (who is a lion. Who can talk. Lol.), take my survey on my profile! It's unrelated to fanfiction, but related to, um, lions! Um. Yeah. Also review.**


	30. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

**A/N: Behold, the ramblings of a feverish mind. My beta reader got **_**another **_**boyfriend (consecutive, not congruent) and hasn't had time to edit. (Have you noticed that most of these excuses are just here for the point of the joke?) Responding to a review I got: Yes, you're right. Albus is old. If you do the math, he's 76ish. Again, he **_**looks **_**35. "If Albus looks 35 when he's actually 76 is it just a plot device so that it's not (as) disgusting and wrong when he gets together with the 35ish year old Harry or, Moonlight, is it all part of something **_**bigger**_**?"**

**The answer to the above question is…yes. And if you want to know what "yes" actually means, feel free to take advantage of the liberal foreshadowing that occurs in the following chapter. And with no further adieu (which…rhymes with review—did I already make that joke?), the chapter. **

* * *

_Last chapter: Minerva had emerged from the wardrobe, her glasses a little askew. She smiled cheerfully. "Hello, Nicolas."_

* * *

Harry squinted at the man, examining him for the first time. He was wearing a hooded red cape, white trousers, and a white shirt that were splattered in crimson blood. He had shiny, brown, shoulder length hair and impressive sideburns. Harry would have guessed that he was about thirty five years old, but—

"Nicolas _Flamel?_" Harry asked, his anger draining to make way for shock.

"Have we met, sir?" asked Nicolas. "I've never forgotten meeting someone, but there's a first time for everything, as I well know."

"We've never met, but…aren't you six hundred years old?" Harry blurted.

"Why, yes I am more or less." Harry could hear the faintest trace of a French accent when he spoke. Albus's eyes twinkled. Harry looked at Albus. There was something about him…an energetic glow that seemed to have intensified…

"Well," Albus said, "I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation for why two of my favorite and most competent staff members were in my pajama wardrobe, and I'm almost as curious about it as I am about what's for supper. Would the three of you care to join me in the other room?"

Minerva smirked. "Don't worry, Albus. We were only in there for all of ten seconds before Crockett leapt out like a lion in heat…I'm sure there's an equally good reason as to why you and Nicolas Flamel are alone in your bedroom together, covered in blood, and talking about what you shouldn't tell his wife. –And yes, please. Supper sounds great. Crockett made me miss lunch."

"I didn't _make _you miss lunch, Minerva. You were perfectly enthusiastic…more than me, I think…" they followed Albus and Nicolas into an adjoining room. Harry abstractly noticed Albus extracting the blood from his and Nicolas' clothing and replacing it in a delicate phial.

Minerva raised her voice. "And what were we doing, exactly, that we were so enthusiastic about in Albus's pajama wardrobe?"

"I _will _hex you, Minerva."

Nicolas turned and walked backwards so that he could face Harry and Minerva like a tour guide. The movement was unexpected and eccentric, and Harry couldn't help but add it to a growing list of reasons he was beginning to like Flamel. It was beginning to look absurd that Albus might have…that Flamel was…

"You're Harry Crockett," said Nicolas.

"See, Crockett? You're already famous. I don't see what you're so worried—"

Harry sent a wordless, wandless silencing spell at Minerva whilst grimacing at Nicolas.

"Yeah, I'm Harry."

"And you've heard of me from Albus?"

"Er, not exactly," said Harry. "Your reputation precedes you. Alchemy? Philosopher's Stone?"

Nicolas turned back around before he backed into a long dining table and walked around to stand next to Albus. "You didn't tell me he was well read, too, Albus," he said with an audible smile.

Albus replied quietly, a rosy tint to his cheeks. "If he is, it is diminished to insignificance by his other gifts."

"I'm really not well read," said Harry. "I, er…just happened to have come across that information while…on a…mission."

"A venture capitalist mission?" asked Minerva, who had managed to counter Harry's silencing spell. Harry didn't know how to answer that and just glared at her instead.

"Albus has told you about me?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Yes," replied Nicolas enthusiastically. "Most definitely." Albus shifted slightly and Nicolas winced. "In passing," he amended.

"How do you know Minerva?"

"I often assist Albus with his magical research and Ms. McGonagall and I have occasionally crossed paths."

"Oh," said Harry sheepishly. He couldn't help but think that Minerva knew a little more than she'd let on about Albus's "brain mooshing."

"So what kind of work do you do together? Twelve uses for dragon blood and all that?" asked Harry. Albus looked stricken and Nicolas looked mildly confused (a look that probably meant "very confused" on a man who'd seen it all as Nicolas Flamel had).

"Ah, yes, Harry. That's what we were _just _doing. Just now. Discovering a tenth, eleventh and twelfth use for dragon blood," said Albus meaningfully.

Harry winced internally, wishing he were a little _less _well read.

"Are you a seer?" asked Nicolas.

"Erm…." Harry paused and looked at Albus. "Yesss—I am _famished._"

"As am I!" said Albus quickly. "Roopie!"

There was a small pop and Roopie the house elf appeared in front of the three men and Minerva looking distinctly harassed.

"Headmaster, sir, what is being needed, sir?"

"Roopie," said Albus kindly, "would you please get dinner for me and my three guests?"

Roopie twitched, whimpered, and looked like he was going to cry. Harry watched the pointed face dissolve and predicted what would happen—he lunged at Roopie before the elf could begin to bash his head against the wooden table.

Minerva shrieked as Harry carefully wrestled the house elf into a safe headlock.

"Don't…hurt yourself," growled Harry into the long pointed ear, layering his voice with persuasion. He felt the elf shiver and still under his grip. He waited a moment until the elf was calm, and then let him go.

"You are an uncommonly gifted Seer," said Nicolas.

Harry snorted. "That wasn't Seeing. I had a rather…volatile house elf friend. I can always tell when they're going to try and punish themselves."

Nicolas raised a long, expressive eyebrow on his relaxed face, but didn't say anything. They turned their attention back to Roopie.

"What's the matter, Roopie?" asked Albus.

"Headmaster, sir, the kitchen is stopping working after dinner."

"What do you mean, Roopie? You're all taking a break?"

"No, sir, we is not taking a break! Houselves is not taking breaks, sir! The kitchens is not having any food now, though. We isn't knowing why, sir. We is ashamed sir, but we is not being able to make food right now, sir."

Albus inhaled.

"That's alright," said Minerva. "Harry owes me a meal. We can go out to London. Of course, Harry probably won't want to buy you—"

"I would _love _to take you _all_ out to dinner," said Harry. "What a great _idea,_ Minerva. Thanks for _asking._" Minerva smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

"I need to go check the kitchens," said Albus. "I'll join you shortly?"

"I'll send you a message when we—um, when Minerva decides where we're eating," Harry reassured him. Albus nodded and looked down to Roopie.

"You can see yourselves out? Lovely. Roopie, would you take yourself and me directly to the kitchens, please?" He held out his arm. He looked up and his eyes locked with Harry's right before they vanished. Harry felt his heart jump at the unexpected glance and couldn't help the involuntary blush and smile that crept onto his face.

"To the gates then, Ms. McGonagall, Mr. Crockett?"

They made their way to the circular headmaster's office and then down the escalator.

"How's your wife, Nicolas?" asked Minerva.

"Penny is just fine." He turned to Harry. "My wife Perenelle has taken to traveling a lot. It leaves me with more free time than I am used to. –It's one of the reasons I'm so grateful for my diversion working with Albus." He sounded almost like he was apologizing.

"I see," said Harry. "Where's she traveling?"

"She's been hopping from place to place. She's been in Egypt for about a year, and before that was China." He spotted Harry's shocked facial expression. "Mr. Crockett, I have been married to my wife for six hundred years. A year away for her is like a week's vacation for you." Harry nodded.

They reached the entry hall with the marble staircase. Nicolas's 600 years of practicing chivalry allowed him to get to the door first, holding it open for Harry and Minerva. The night air was fresh but crisp. Minerva shivered and Nicolas conjured a luxurious fur cloak for her and slid it up to her shoulders. She pulled it close to herself and stepped out into the night towards the gate.

Nicolas hesitated on the top stair with Harry.

"You have a cloak?" He gestured at Harry's arm where the invisibility cloak was folded.

"Oh, um…"

"I suppose not," said Nicolas knowingly. He waved his wand and an elegant black cloak appeared in midair in front of Harry, who caught it. Nicolas continued as Harry put on the cloak. "I've seen that cloak before."

Harry sighed. "_Of _course you have."

"Would I be correct in stating that it is a particularly fine cloak of invisibility?"

"That's the one," said Harry, resigned. "When did you see it last?"

"1478, Italy. It was owned by a particularly gifted intellectual by the name of Leonardo. A queer sort of wizard—he chose to live in the muggle world without magic. He believed in the journey over the destination, and chose to accomplish his tasks through labor, study, and practice. He perfected his hand as an artist, non-magical herbologist, and was always inventing non-magical ways to accomplish simple tasks."

They began strolling slowly across the vast lawn towards the gates. Nicolas continued his story.

"He was a homosexual—which was illegal where he lived in Florence in that time, and he was arrested on charges of sodomy shortly after I met him in 1476. Despite his dedication to living without the aid of magic, he wasn't unduly annoyed when I Confunded the officials in charge of his case and sprung him from prison. I got the impression that imprisonment was not on the top of his priority list for journeys to experience.

"I spent two years shadowing the man, trying to learn from his lifestyle. After the two years, he finally confided that he didn't live entirely without magic. He possessed one magical artifact that he'd inherited from his real father. He'd been raised by a muggle who claimed that Leonardo was his illegitimate child. Though this man took many wives, he was never able to produce any legitimate children. (Leonardo, a scholar of anatomy, knew that neither he nor any of the man's other "children" were biological heirs). When Leonardo turned seventeen, the cloak appeared to him in his chamber: a magical cloak that would render him invisible. There was a note, and all it said was--"

"Let me guess," said Harry, smiling. "Use it well?"

"'Usilo bene.' Sí, use it well. By that time, he'd discovered his wizardry and had been discovered by the wizarding community, and had already chosen his own path. A lifelong observer, though, he found the cloak irresistible. He would don the cloak and walk into the woods. Light of foot, he would be neither seen nor heard and could lose himself to the world. He allowed me to examine it, and it was unlike anything I'd ever seen. –I had, on the other hand, read about something similar. Even then, I'd been alive long enough to know that a cloak such as that was not common. I realized it was one of mythical Death's Hallows.

"Heterosexual relations disgusted Leonardo, but he knew he must produce an heir to whom he would pass the cloak. He told me this, but he couldn't explain why. I just accepted it as part of the magic. He impregnated a woman who was in a homosexual relationship with another woman. She gave birth to one son, though Leonardo often depicted him in his art twice as would fit the title of the piece. One of those paintings even depicted the cloak draped over the hand of the boy's mother, though he passed it off as an unfinished part of the painting.

"I have only ever offered the immortality of the Philosopher's Stone to three people. Leonardo was one of them, but he declined my offer and died at the age of sixty five."

"May I ask who else you, um, offered immortality to?"

"I'd discovered how to make the stone a decade after marrying Penny. I offered her an eternity with me, and, obviously, she accepted."

Harry thought he was going to continue and talk about the third person, so he waited silent for a moment. Nicolas spoke again, but it wasn't the continuation Harry expected.

"I recommend that you don't inform Albus of your possession of that particular artifact," he said softly. "I fear it would start something that Albus has moved past."

A cool wind blew around them.

"I know," whispered Harry.

Nicolas looked at him curiously, both eyebrows raised. "You _do_ know, don't you. Though I have never before had occasion to say so, it takes a man out of time to recognize one."

Harry chuckled.

"Albus does know that, doesn't he?" asked Nicolas.

"It wasn't going to hurt him."

Nicolas nodded. "I think he fears how much he trusts you."

Harry sighed. "I'm just glad he trusts me…Now I just need to give him reason to."

"Come on!" Minerva called across the grounds. "I'm not going to live forever!"

Nicolas chuckled. "Her directness is refreshing."

They exited the front gate and Minerva insisted that they side-along apperated with her. Harry met Nicolas' glance behind Minerva and the pair of them grinned before being shoved through the elastic tube of apperation.

They landed, and immediately Harry was being bumped and jostled by robed people flooding around him, some through the archway before them. On the ornate woven arch, hundreds of glowing fairies danced making up the words "_Comede Noctem."_ When Harry read it, he noticed a peculiar lightening in his chest. The air came through his lungs clearer, and he noticed how each breath seemed to give him life.

"It's a spell," explained Minerva. "I've always wanted to come here," she said breathily.

"You have good taste," said Nicolas. "Have you been before?"

"No," she said.

"It's the most expensive wizarding restaurant in Europe—probably the world," said Nicolas passively. Minerva looked guiltily at Harry.

"Why does this feel like blackmail," Harry tried to mutter darkly, but it came out breathy and excited.

He remembered Albus. "_Expecto Patronum!"_ he incanted. What Harry suspected was the most powerful patronus he'd ever conjured emerged from his wand. "We're at Comede Noctem," he told the silver phoenix, and it zoomed off to find Albus.

"We will wait inside," said Nicolas. He led the way through the arch, Harry and Minerva shuffling through behind him.

As they stood in the wide courtyard, the change was immediate and noticeable. It was as if each of them were Cinderella consulting with a fairy godmother before going to the ball. Nicolas' crimson cape lengthened and turned to the finest silk. His soft, white, already formal shirt and trousers changed subtly so that no one would have been able to explain the difference, but the difference was tangible all the same. The fabric could have come out of a Tide advertisement as well as it fit to accentuate his youthful angles and figure. His hair shone as if it had been blow-dried for a half hour, and his face, all but the dashing sideburns, was smooth as an airbrushed photo.

Minerva looked completely different than she had. Her long, conjured, fur cape had vanished, and her day robes had been replaced with a soft purple-red, floor length ball gown. The front of the gown was shorter in the front so that it showed off Minerva's shins and the pointed shoes that matched her dress. The gown had spaghetti straps and a v-neck that showed off the silver necklace that hung to the middle of her chest. Up her arms to a few inches above the crook of the elbow were white gloves of the same fabric as the dress. Her hair hung in shining, relaxed waves past her shoulders. Her glasses had gone.

Harry looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing matching black tuxedo vest and pants that were pinstriped with green. Under the vest was a shirt with the same green—the green of his eyes. On his head was a black fedora, tipped casually.

The night was warmer, Harry noticed. He would have been too hot in a coat, and Minerva looked relaxed even though her upper arms were bare. Along with the warmth came an at-ease calm that hadn't been present outside in the shuffling walk. Their own footsteps and voices carried gracefully, but those of the other parties around were muted as if they were behind a curtain. Harry looked back at the arch, and outside the courtyard seemed grey and blurred compared to the warmth around him.

"I see why it's so expensive," Harry murmured.

Nicolas smiled and held out his gloved hand to Minerva. "This way." He took her hand, placed it on his elbow, and they crossed through the illuminated courtyard. They joined the short queue in front of a pair of great wooden doors that were rounded at the top. The doors were open, and at the hinge of each one stood a wizard in top hat and tails presumably checking people in and seating them. When one wizard would escort a party, another would appear to serve the line.

Minerva was deep in conversation with the mysteriously youthful man on her arm, and he was listening with practiced attention. At another restaurant, perhaps, Harry might have felt like a third wheel. As it was, he was perfectly content to allow his gaze to wander back to the courtyard behind the party. His gaze alighted on elegant wooden benches among rosebushes, and fairies playing in a sparkling fountain.

A stirring caught his eye, and Harry looked to the archway in time to see a man approach from outside. The effect of the courtyard made everything outside look bland and unremarkable. Looking through the gate, the man appeared almost unremarkable. Almost. Harry watched passively as the man stopped and glanced up at the words on the arch and smiled in amusement and content. Then the man stepped through the archway and Harry's breath caught as he continued to watch.

An unnoticed wind swept across the man's figure leaving behind something different in its place. Where there had been dark robes was now a knee-length white vest that flared at the hips and had silver clasps that held it an inch from being shut. Visible through both this gap and along his arms was a sapphire blue shirt, billowing out freely at the ends of his well postured shoulders, and meeting again in neat cuffs around his slender wrists. The white boots he wore tapered forward to a soft trapezoid, and had heels just high enough to emphasize his posture even more. His normally free, wavy hair was sleek and tied back. When he bent over to observe his own new outfit, Harry could see the blue ribbon that tied back the strawberry locks.

Then the man straightened, his eyes immediately playing onto Harry's face as he looked up. He smiled, and before Harry knew it, Albus Dumbledore was standing right beside him.

"_Comede Noctem_," Albus whispered, and Harry felt the spell again, moving the charged night air through his lungs. "Oh, this will be fun," said Albus, his breath deep with mystery. With his hand tingling on the small of Harry's back, Albus led Harry after Minerva and Nicolas into the rising music.

* * *

**A/N: Again, I did a ridiculous amount of research for this chapter. I mean…hours on google on the lexicon and folklore and the lexicon and history and all kinds of stuff. That's what happens when I'm out of school sick. Sorry for any Da Vinci lovers in here who know that Da Vinci never **_**actually **_**produced an heir, nor were the women in his paintings probably lesbian lovers. Nor was he, er, a wizard. Credit to Aenea for Latin references. Credit to Lake Called Nessi for helping out with Albus's outfit (you're right, dear, sapphire is much better than sky). And, **_**thank you**_**, Matt, for gracing me with your reviews. (And others, too. They really make me happy and my writing better/faster). **


	31. Comede Noctem

**A/N: Long time no …er…post. Here's a chapter for you. Funny story about this chapter…I'll put it at the end. Good…Luck…Getting…through this… =D**

**Warnings: …none, unless you have a mushroom phobia. Of course, after this chapter, you may develop one. I did. (No…I did not suddenly change the ship to Harry/Mushroom. That's yucky. Though I've seen worse. Ah, the internet.)**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Somehow the table had room enough for the four to eat without bumping elbows, but felt intimate and close. They didn't feel obligated to keep their voices down because they knew nobody would overhear them through the nondescript din of voices and music, but they could also hear each other with perfect clarity.

It was the sort of restaurant where, in the muggle world, the food would take an age to prepare and the deck-of-cards sized portion might leave a hungry person tapping his fingers. _Comede Noctem, _however, was not a muggle restaurant. Harry's party, especially Harry and Minerva, were ravenous and would have gotten quippy from low blood sugar, but no sooner had they spread the purple napkins over their laps than a small covered dish appeared in front of each of them. Minerva started to reach for hers, but Nicolas grabbed her hand before she managed to touch it.

In perfect synchronization, the four lids of the four dishes shot up into the air and disappeared. On each dish was a slim leprechaun in silk, green formalwear. The little leprechaun men in front of Harry, Albus, and Minerva were adjusting their little golden bow ties of their little green tuxedoes with tail coats. The little woman on Nicolas's plate was smoothing down her green dress as her golden heels glinted in the dim light. They all stood with dramatic grace, striking elegant poses.

"We don't have to eat them, do we?" Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Albus shook his head.

Then the leprechauns began to dance. They danced to slow music that Harry hadn't noticed was playing until they started. They danced individually on their plates, and then the music changed, and Harry found his heart speeding up with the beat. The leprechauns stepped off their dishes to the center of the table and danced together. Three would sit down and one would have a dance solo with cartwheels or flips or leaps, or two would observe while the other executed delicate twirls and throws. By the end, all four danced in a circle. The four leprechauns broke apart again, each to their separate dish, snapped their fingers. The music stopped as if it was holding its breath, and the leprechauns stopped dancing.

In each of their hands was a little golden pouch. Eyes glinting, the leprechauns reached slowly into their bags and pulled out black capsules. As they bent to put the capsules on their plates, the beat of the drum started back up again, slowly and softly. The little people began circling their capsules, stepping to the accelerating beat. They waved their arms, and the capsules melted into the plates. They flicked water with no apparent origin onto the little lumps which began to grow. They kept circling, and soon it became apparent that the lumps were mushrooms, growing right there in front of them, swaying like willows to the beat of the music.

The mushrooms were unlike any Harry had ever seen. His seemed to be four distinctly different species of mushroom grafted seamlessly in quarters. It grew to about an inch tall and two inches in diameter, and came to a quivering stop, but the leprechauns kept dancing. As part of their dance, they seasoned the mushrooms from pouches that appeared on belts around their waists. They grabbed bottles at their waists, tilted their heads back and took generous drafts of the contents. In unison, they rocked forward, spitting towards the mushrooms. When the liquid hit the air, it ignited and turned into jets of fire that toasted the mushrooms. The leprechauns crouched slowly around the mushrooms, making sure all of the sides were roasted evenly. When they'd all gone around three times, they stood and faced their respective diner.

In four part harmony, like a barber-shop-for-hamsters quartet, they sang "_amuse bouche_!" and vanished with a crack.

The four clapped excitedly.

"They never do the same performance twice here," said Nicolas. "No two tables, no two nights are the same ever."

The mushrooms defied description.

When the fungi had been consumed, a long, thin dish appeared on their table bearing blini and caviar.

"Caviar of Bulgarian Sturgeon," Nicolas told them.

Though their wineglasses remained empty as they'd sat through the _amuse boushe_ performance, as soon as any of them reached for the caviar, their glass would lengthen into a flute and fill with pale liquid with the finest bubbles.

The food, though elegant and novel, did not dominate the conversation as it often does at elegant and novel restaurants. On the contrary, the conversation began with caviar, and quickly catalyzed a rich discussion on an entirely different subject.

Soon the platter was clean, and before any of the diners could lament its short life, petite cups appeared in front of each of them with lemon sherbet. It was cold, obviously and smooth. Its delicate flavor made them forget the caviar. After tasting their palate cleanser, that dish, too, disappeared.

Despite the fact that Harry had only eaten a mushroom, few scoops of caviar, blini, and sorbet since breakfast, he no longer felt hungry at all. Of course, the conversation was far too stimulating for him to notice something like not being hungry.

During a pause after a particularly riveting story from Nicolas about acting in one of Shakespeare's plays, menus appeared in front of each of the four. The light in the room wasn't nearly as prevalent as the mysteriously charged darkness, but the menus were legible because the words were written in glowing gold script.

Harry looked at his menu. There were no descriptions, but each time Harry focused on one of the entrée names, a picture of the food floated into his mind's eye. He even felt like he could smell the dishes. It left no pesky "does that come with potatoes?" questions to be asked. Harry was sure that if he wished to know exactly what spices were on each meal, the answer would present itself to his stream of consciousness as if by pure intuition.

"I think I'd like the lobster," said Nicolas softly. Albus raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Nicolas's menu faded to nothing in his hands.

"I'd like the rack of lamb," said Minerva from Harry's right.

"And I the dragon," said Albus.

Harry turned his head quickly to the left to look at Albus, his eyebrows hidden under his hair. He hadn't noticed that option on the menu.

"It's a specialty of _Comede Noctem_," said Nicolas. "Very few other restaurants serve fillet of dragon. I'm quite partial to it, but after our work today, I didn't think I could stomach it…Don't you find, Albus?"

"My feelings are quite the opposite. Working with dragon blood all day has left me with an uncommonly persistent craving."

"Working in a slaughter house wouldn't deter Albus's appetite," muttered Minerva.

"Harvesting the parts of dragons can be quite humane, actually," said Nicolas, missing the joke. "They find dragons that are fighting over territory. Dragons will fight to the death and often both will die. Removing one from the equation is kinder than letting them fight and kill each other. –It doesn't happen very often, though, and only the highest bidders can get hold of their parts."

"How did you get the blood?" asked Harry.

"I was the highest bidder,' said Nicolas like it was obvious, but not condescending or bragging.

"Wealth, as well as generosity and idle curiosity, can be a fortunate symptom of uncommon age, as Nicolas frequently reminds me," smiled Albus.

"As well as the tendency to fall trap to the ambitions of young freeloading researchers," replied Flamel.

"Oh, is that what you did? I was under the impression you were more in the habit of finding busy scholars to take on your projects for you," said Albus, his eyes dancing behind his deadpan face.

"Busy scholars, or perhaps school teachers with no better diversion than to complete the same assignments he assigns to his students each night."

"You did the homework?" asked Minerva, grinning. Albus ignored her and continued his tennis match with Nicolas.

"Not a diversion, Nicolas. It was merely a teaching technique. –And an effective one, at that. How could I expect a student to do more work than I was willing to do myself?"

"Grading the work should be the measure of that. If you assign more, you have to grade more."

"But, of course, grading takes much less time than composing."

"I think grading thirty essays would get close," retorted Nicolas.

"Regardless of the time, composing takes much more thought and research."

"—As much thought as breathing to someone who teaches the material."

"I did the work before I assigned it or taught the material. I used the essays as lesson plans to keep the information straight—"

"Information you know by heart anyway," insisted Nicolas. "Your logic has as many holes as my body would had I died at a normal age and been devoured by termites."

"I believe I'll allow your flattery rather than winning that argument, however I did have other diversions which I have since given up—"

"Teaching first years to fly? Refereeing Quidditch matches? I was under the impression that you continued those endeavors until you took up the post of headmaster. Really, Albus, are you putting flaws in your logic on purpose?"

"Naturally. I'm testing you. What did you decide on, Harry?"

Harry was caught by the abrupt change in topic and had no idea what Albus was talking about.

"Your dinner," he clarified, gesturing to Harry's empty hands.

While Harry was watching Albus and Nicolas debate, he hadn't noticed his menu fade and disappear in his hands.

"I don't know. Do you recon it ordered me something?"

"When a customer is gripped by indecision, the menus of _Comede Noctem _will make a decision based on their subconscious. They're always right. In fact, the menus are only a formality, really. To a degree, they want their customers to feel like they've got a choice. After that, they assume the choice is close enough that a customer would welcome a point in the right direction. In my experience, people don't normally notice their menus are gone until their food's already arrived," explained Albus.

"How astute of you, Albus," said Minerva teasingly.

"I was looking," he said. Nicolas raised his eyebrows. Minerva rolled her eyes.

A wide, shallow bowl of soup appeared in front of each of them.

In front of Minerva was a tomato puree with dot of cream and a dot of pesto in the center. Nicolas had a buttermilk corn chowder with snippets of fresh chive. Harry and Albus had—

"It is…it is…it is green," said Harry.

"It is dragon consume," said Albus, picking up his spoon and dipping it into the glowing green sludge in front of himself. Harry frowned and gingerly mimicked the others' motions. The moment the spoon hit his tongue, Harry had to restrain himself from apologizing out loud to the soup for thinking of it as sludge. It was a culinary masterpiece.

The bowls vanished when all that were left were trails of soup too small to be picked up by the curvature of the spoons. There was no palette cleanser. Instead, the entrees appeared immediately. Flames burst from Harry and Albus's plates and Harry threw himself backward into his chair to avoid singing his eyebrows. The flames sunk into a low, but still lit pyre. Harry glanced at the others' dishes. If Harry hadn't heard Minerva order the rack of lamb, he'd have guessed at first glance that her plate held a bouquet. Vegetables saturated in appropriate seasonings and the finest of oils towered up in a foot tall spire. The lamb ribs protruded like petals of flowers between little heads of broccoli and zucchini cut into roses.

Nicolas delicately flipped his lobster over with his utensils and announced, "it is female."

"I've heard half of them are," remarked Minerva. Harry had to use magic on his face not to laugh.

"Though I may be old enough to be thrice senile and deaf as a flobberworm, I am neither," chided Nicolas lightly. "It is tradition to announce the sex of one's lobster to one's table."

"And what of one's dragon?" asked Albus, twinkling.

"Your dragon is male," said Nicolas. "Male dragons rarely engage in deadly fights, and so they are rarer on the market. Their meat is superior because they lead less stressful lives than the females, who are aggressive and fierce. Both are a delicacy, but, given our location, your dragon is male—not that it is a tradition to announce it."

They began to disturb their food. Nicolas tapped his nutcracker and lobster fork against the shell, and they began to unfold his lobster for him. Minerva began disassembling her spire, and Albus cut himself a slice of flaming meat. He drew it to his mouth, blew out the flame, and slipped it between his lips. Harry didn't notice when he'd turned slightly to look at Harry, his eyebrows raised. Albus's Adam's apple rose as he swallowed, and Harry came back to his senses.

"You blow it out, then?" he asked.

"Unless you want to set your mouth on fire," said Minerva. Harry rolled his eyes and dug in.

Though most foods are supposed to taste like chicken, the dragon tasted decidedly more like beef—the most tender, buttery beef Harry'd ever tasted. The flames kept the meat hot and the edge crisp, but didn't reach the center to over-cook it.

The conversation lulled as they each worked on their masterpieces, but picked up again as the plates were spent. The rest of the meal flew.

A plate came bearing strangely shaped cheeses and delicate crackers. Harry noticed that each time he tried a different cheese, the wine in his glass would change subtly to compliment the choice. There were several more small courses presented as gifts from the chef, and then, the desserts.

Harry received a lava cake decorated with raspberries and gold. It was almost as aesthetically pleasing as it was hypnotically delicious.

And then there was a small truffle for each of them

And then there was no more food, but the music from the background picked up. All four of them noticed a space in the center of the room that they hadn't before. Graceful, faceless people twirled and glided across the floor. Harry felt the music in his chest, picking him up, making him light. He didn't feel at all weighed down by his countless course meal.

"A dance, m'dear?" asked Nicolas, proffering his hand to Minerva. She giggled, and slipped her gloved hand into his, letting him lift her onto the floor. They blended into the glamorous orchestra of color.

Harry and Albus listened to one song, and then another in comfortable silence. Then Harry remembered their earlier conversation.

"So, what was wrong in the kitchens?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Albus. "By the time I arrived, everything was working just fine. It was most puzzling. I will be investigating when we return."

Harry hummed and frowned in thought. "Has it ever happened before?"

"Not that I know of."

They were silent for a moment.

"Harry, I must ask, why _were _you and Minerva in my pajama wardrobe?" asked Albus.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "That's rather hard to explain. Would it be enough to say I didn't mean to go there at all, and that I thought I was going somewhere else?"

"No." His eyes twinkled.

"Alright, er…" Harry tried to think of what he could say without giving too much away. "Your wardrobe is a one way vanish cabinet. So's Minerva's. We—well, I thought we were going through Minerva's." Albus raised his eyebrows. "I didn't make them! We found them and they were already vanishing cabinets."

"Are my quarters vulnerable to unwanted intrusion?"

"Oh, er…" Harry grimaced. "Only my intrusion, I'm sure—and it won't happen again."

"I'm glad," said Albus, "that my pajamas are safe. I have spent quite a bit of time building that collection."

Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh, blush, or nod with sincerity. He didn't have to decide, however, because, at that moment, Nicolas and Minerva reappeared flushed and out of breath.

"I'm sorry to say that I'm finding myself tiring. Minerva is kind enough to let me take her home. Do forgive us for deserting you—I am an old man, after all." He winked. Minerva looked quite tired, herself, and Harry wondered if she'd asked Nicolas to cover for her exhaustion.

"Goodnight, Nicolas," smiled Albus.

"Congratulations on your discovery, Albus. They'll have to put you on a chocolate frog card for this one!"

"Don't tease me, Nicolas. I doubt anyone will even know about this."

"Only the ones who don't read the Prophet won't," said Nicolas mischievously.

"Nicolas…"

"Goodnight, Albus." Nicolas smirked, taking Minerva's arm. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Harry. I look forward to seeing you again."

"Cheers. You too," said Harry.

Nicolas turned, and he and Minerva waded through the crowd and disappeared.

Albus turned back to Harry. "Are you and Minerva working on a project?"

"Yes, actually. We both decided we were interested in studying animagi. We went out to buy books—bugger! I left them in the—er…" Harry stopped himself before he said vault.

"Sorry, Harry? The what?" asked Albus, searching Harry's face. Why was he keeping it a secret again? Who would be better to share his discovery with? Who would appreciate it more than Albus? Who would be able to help him understand the significance of his find better than Albus Dumbledore? Who did he _want _to tell more than the man behind the blue eyes hanging on his silence?

"My Gringots vault," said Harry.

"Ah. I _would _feel much safer knowing the door to my quarters is locked in Gringots vault."

"What? I didn't say that! It's—"

"It's ok, Harry. I trust you."

"_Why?_" asked Harry, catching Albus off guard.

"Why do I trust you? I—"

He was interrupted as all of the dancers started draining from the dance floor. They slowly, gracefully accumulated at the edges of the floor, not going back to their seats. A song started, but no one was dancing.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Harry. "Did something happen? Why aren't they dancing."

"This is a men's dance," said Albus.

"Men's choice? Like the men get to choose their dance partners?"

"It's a dance for two men. The Walz is for a man and a woman. The Tango is for a man and a woman. This dance is for two men."

"How can you tell?" asked Harry, feeling like he was eleven again. It had been a while since he'd been introduced to something totally foreign in the wizarding world. –And the idea of two men dancing wasn't foreign, but in Harry's time…well, people had stopped dancing together in general. They'd still danced a bit when Harry was in school, but social events mostly devolved into disorganized jumping around.

"It's a tradition. The song is well known—though I believe the music was written to bring out and emphasize the masculinity in the dance."

Harry examined one of his finger nails. "It's too bad no one's dancing. I think I'd understand what you mean better if—"

A hand reached into his down pointed plane of view, and Harry looked up. Harry hadn't seen Albus move from his chair, but he was standing directly in front of Harry, hand outstretched.

Harry groaned. "I definitely haven't had enough to drink for this." He slipped his hand into Albus's and allowed himself to be pulled up from his seat.

* * *

**A/N: Ok ok, I'm so sorry. If there are copious errors in this chapter it's because I didn't want to read it again to find them. When I started writing this chapter **_**two months ago**_** I thought it would be really cool to write about the dinner. I made up a menu and all that jazz and started writing it and…and writing it…and writing it…and this chapter, though it is only 3.2k words or so, took **_**two months. **_**I'd sit there in front of a paragraph about mushrooms for an hour straight without typing anything. I'd complain at my friends— "which one's more expensive, female dragons or male dragons?" "Moonlight, does it really matter?" "**_**Yesitmatters.**_**" "Couldn't you just delete that scene? Haven't you been writing it for two months? You're **_**still **_**on the part with the mushrooms??" "**_**I can't delete it! I've been working on it for too long!"**_

**IT'S A TRAP.**

**A note to other authors: Do not write a food scene! Ever! (Thank you Mirage).**

**Next chapter: A dance, and…who's the six year old girl in the bathroom? Dun dun dun. [Plot! Yes! No more buggering mushrooms!]**


	32. Very La Strange

**A/N: PLOT. Yes. This is not beta'd because my beta suspects that her boyfriend might be pregnant (yeah, I know I promised no mPreg…but…it doesn't count when it's in an author's note) so they went to a small island in the Caribbean to run experiments. It's looking grim. We think the child might be Vulcan. (OMG Xeno and mPreg in the same A/N! Next A/N will be PWP. Just kidding). Enjoy chapter 32, folks. **

* * *

The last time Harry had danced had been at his wedding. He had participated in the obligatory newlywed dance with Ginny. Ginny'd had no problem leading as they danced to _A Broomstick Built for Two_. After, Ginny danced with Arthur Weasley, and Harry sidestepped propositions from both Molly and McGonagall to stand in for his mother and sat out.

Harry was awful at dancing.

—And he always had an excuse not to dance. Ron detested the activity, so Harry always had someone to talk to. Ginny was perfectly happy to dance with Neville. Neville was an excellent dancer. Ginny, Hermione, and his wife Hannah fought over Neville at social events while Harry and Ron discussed Quidditch or work—anything not to dance.

Harry loathed dancing.

So he was confused when he felt the elated butterflies in his chest as Albus led him gracefully to the center of the floor. Harry felt as if he'd been rehearsing this dance for months and was about to perform it perfectly in front of an audience who'd never know just how much fun it was.

His mind interrupted. _You don't know how to do this dance! You're dancing with another _man_ in front of a room full of people! You hate dancing!_ _At least_, he mused, _no one's watching_. He remembered the blur of indistinct people he'd seen on the dance floor. _There must be some spell on it._

So, he didn't have to worry about a room full of people judging him. Only Albus. But he couldn't bring himself to be worried as Albus turned to face him.

There was no need to talk. Harry felt the music take him exactly where he needed to go. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the restaurant. Maybe it was just easy to mirror Albus's steps, but Harry found himself a very competent dancer.

And there was nothing awkward about dancing with another man to that song. In fact, Harry would have thought dancing with a woman to the song would be somehow incorrect. Neither Harry nor Albus was leading (though Harry was looking to Albus for cues), and Harry didn't feel like either of their masculinities were being compromised. He was surprised to find that he hardly had to pay attention to the steps at all. He followed Albus, and enjoyed the feeling of turning and doing grapevines and occasionally clapping in time.

Harry tried to fix the moment in his memory, but before he was satisfied that the memory would be vivid in his mind for the rest of his life, the music had ended. The band was silent, and Harry didn't notice until Albus moved to escort him off the floor again.

When they were seated once more, the floor began to fill up again, and the band started to play again.

"So what did you think?" asked Albus.

Harry hesitated. "I can see what you meant...about it being for two men."

"And did you enjoy it?" asked Albus, his eyes flashing.

Harry felt his face growing warm, and tried to respond with nonchalance. "Yes, I did."

He very suddenly decided he needed to regroup. _Woman_, he chastised himself.

"Er, would you mind if I went to the loo?" he asked.

"Certainly not."

"Alright. I'll be back in two secs. –and if I'm not, come save me, 'cause I'll have likely been kidnapped," he joked.

Harry rose from the table and headed off to find a bathroom. It only took a moment of craning his neck to find a subtle but clearly lit sign that said "Restrooms." He ducked through the mess of indistinct people and reached a little arch that led to the restrooms. On his left was a door do the Women's Room, and on the right was the Men's. The alcove with the restrooms was sheltered from the music and din of the guests. Harry paused a moment to savor the silence, but heard someone crying in the women's room. He wondered how anyone could possibly be upset in a place like Comede Noctem.

He went into the men's bathroom (which was just as lavishly decorated as the rest of the restaurant) did his business, and wandered over to stare at himself in the mirror.

He looked good.

He'd left his hat back at the table. The vest of his tuxedo was slimming, and the combination of the vest and his green shirt made his posture look elegant and carefree. The tux matched his hair, and the green stripes and shirt matched his eyes.

When he was in school, his features had been almost gauntly pale. His work as an auror, besides the occasional stake out, had him working mostly indoors. After spending several months living in a forest, he'd developed a healthy tan. During the two years before he applied for the Hogwarts job, he'd made a point of spending a lot of time outdoors. He flew his broom a lot, took trips to the wilderness to practice his powers, and even traveled when his venture capitalism permitted (which was a lot of the time). Instead of the haunted, paranoid, remnant of the Boy Who Lived in the future, he was a colorful, carefree man.

His past served to remind him how lucky he was, but he hadn't realized how much he'd changed until then, in his tuxedo, in Comede Noctem, in the mirror. This man laughed easily—danced, even. He hadn't even checked his Dragon soup for dark wizards. His shoulders weren't weighed down with the stress of measuring his every action lest it be published unfavorably in the _Prophet_. Harry Crockett didn't have friends or a wife or children who unintentionally controlled his life. He just had Albus.

He studied his face. There were fewer lines over his brow—and, of course, his scar was missing.

He'd always liked his scar, despite its origin. He often lamented having to hide it. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, the scar was back, fixed in the middle of his forehead. He smiled, and noticed a pair of dimples that had formed in his cheeks. Those were new.

The door opened, and he looked down, pretending he was washing his hands. A shadow appeared behind him.

"So you haven't been kidnapped? I was beginning to worry."

Harry spun around and found himself face to face with Albus.

"Er, sorry," said Harry. Albus peered down at him through his half-moon glasses for a moment before reaching up and touching Harry's forehead. It took Harry a moment to realize that he was tracing his scar.

"For something created by a horrible curse, your scar is beautiful." Harry raised an eyebrow under Albus's touch. He wouldn't exactly have described his scar as _beautiful._ "Why do you hide it?"

"It was the only thing I liked about my appearance when I was a kid," said Harry, "but everyone in the future knows me by my scar. I've had it since I was a year old. I was famous for it. I can't risk…you know."

Albus pulled his hand away, nodding. "Shall we?"

Harry nodded and hid his scar with a wave of his hand. They pushed their way through the door and back out into the antechamber facing the women's bathroom. There was still someone crying. Harry saw Albus frown. Harry noticed that the crying had gotten louder and more intense.

"She was crying when I came in," said Harry. Albus's frown deepened. "Hold on," said Harry. He closed his eyes, and reached out with one of his auras into the woman's restroom. There was only one person in there. Whoever it was was scared, upset, lost, and alone. The strength of the emotions was disturbing.

"I think she's in trouble, Albus. She could be hurt. I'm going in. Guard the door?"

"May I ask why?"

"Women's restroom."

Harry hadn't had a problem going into women's restrooms since his second year, but he didn't want anyone to walk in on him in there. Albus nodded and Harry pushed the door open slowly and peeked in. The sound of anguish attacked his ears. He immediately located—

There was a little girl huddled against the wall opposite the sinks. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she rocked back and forth whimpering. Big fat tears dripped down her face and left wet stains on the knees of her purple dress. Her ringlets of black hair obscured her face, and the purple bow in her hair was dislodged, only holding on by a few strands. There were pearls scattered on the tile as though they'd burst from a strand.

Harry stood there for a moment, not really sure what to do. Panic rose within him. He'd been expecting blood and injury, not an upset little girl.

"H-hello?" he asked in as calm a voice as he could muster.

The little girl looked up and her startled eyes met Harry's. Harry blanched when he saw the heavy eyelids and…how had he not recognized the trademark black curls of Bellatrix Lastrange?

Then his father instincts kicked in.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "I'm here to help you."

Her blotchy face turned pinker. "I'm a big girl, I don't need help." It sounded rehearsed. It broke Harry's heart that this little girl thought she needed to be strong in front of Harry. He frowned.

"Well, in that case, will you help me?"

"Why are you in the girls' bathroom? You're a boy."

"I came in here because I needed your help. Now, I was wondering if you knew where I could find Mr. and Mrs. Black? Cygnus and Druella?" asked Harry.

He got her attention with that.

"That's my mum and dad," she said. "I don't know why you want to find them, though." She looked back at the floor and sniffed.

Harry pulled out the green handkerchief that had materialized in his vest pocket (wincing when he noticed that it was monogrammed HP) and handed it to her.

"Are they here?" he asked. She shook her head and blew her nose. "Did they leave?" She nodded, kneading the handkerchief. "What happened with the pearls?" Harry asked, sensing that they had been important.

"M-Mummy had a lot to drink. We went to the b-bathroom and she caught the necklace…on something. It broke, and she said it was all m-my f-fault," she stammered.

"Why didn't she fix it?"

"I dono," she muttered. "She ran out angry after…after…" she crossed her arms, covering her shoulders with her hands.

"Did she hurt you?" asked Harry. Under the hands covering her shoulders, Harry could see finger shaped bruises and finger-nail shaped scratches.

"Hmm," said Harry. "Can I bring my friend in here? He's really nice, and I think he might be able to help fix your mother's pearls."

She gulped and nodded. Harry turned to leave, but Bellatrix hiccupped. "Please don't leave," she whispered.

Harry turned back around and said, "Alright. I won't leave you. Wanna see a cool trick?"

She sniffed. "Yeah."

"Ok," said Harry. "Can you count to twenty?"

"I can count to two-hundred," said Bellatrix.

"That's fantastic," said Harry. "Ok, to get my friend to come in here, I need you to count to twenty. On 'twenty,' he'll come in."

"Is he a boy too?"

"Yes."

"And he can come into the girls' bathroom?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Onetwothreefourfive…"

Harry quickly reached out to Albus with his aura and poked him with as many "come hither" vibes as he could. He needed to come up with a way to silently verbally communicate.

"Fifdeen sixdeen sevendeen eighdeenninedeentwendy!"

Albus burst through the door in a panic, having gotten the message that he was needed. He spotted Harry and the little smiling girl and relaxed.

"This is my friend. You may call him—"

"Mr. D," said Albus.

"And I'm Mr. C," said Harry.

"You have funny names," said Bellatrix.

"Well, they're short for things," said Harry.

"Well, then, I'm Ms. B," said Bellatrix. "Only now I'm curious. Hmm, Mr. Dog and Mr. Cat? Mr. Dish and Mr. Cup? Mr. Door and Mr…"

"Curfew?" asked Albus.

"What's that?"

"It's the time you're supposed to be home," explained Harry.

"I don't have one of those. I'm not supposed to go out by myself."

"Well, then, we should get you home," said Albus.

"Are you going to fix Mummy's pearls?"

"Al—Mr. D, I told her you're very good at fixing things. Could you fix her mother's pearls?"

"Why, of course, Mr. C."

"And while he's doing that, I have a surprise for you," said Harry. "I need you to stand up. Can you do that?"

She stood up.

"Ok, good. Now, on the count of three, I need you to close your eyes and spin in a circle."

"Ok."

Harry scanned her body, finding the bruises and scratches on her arms.

"Ready?" asked Harry.

"Yep." She closed her eyes.

"One, two, three!" She spun in a circle, her purple skirt belling out slightly. As she spun, Harry healed all of her cuts and bruises.

He poked her arm.

"Hey!" She opened her eyes and looked where he'd poked her. "Wow! How did you do that?" she asked when she saw her cuts were gone.

"Magic," said Harry. "What's that on your wrist?"

She looked down to find a silver bracelet that hadn't been there before. "A bracelet! Wow!"

"If you ever get hurt like that again, put the bracelet on and the cuts and bruises will go away, ok?"

"Thank you," she said.

Albus stepped up next to Harry with a little box. He opened it. "Here are your mother's pearls." He closed the lid. "The string won't break again," he said.

"And now it's time to get you home," said Harry. "Would I be correct in saying you're staying at number 12 Grimmauld Place in London?"

"Yes. How did you know that?" she asked.

"Magic," said Harry. Albus looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Alright, well. I'll pay the bill and we can be on our way."

"Ah, Mr. C? I think you'll find that Mr. F has already paid the bill. I myself have never been able to take it from him. He's very sneaky about it."

"What? But it must have been Galleons and…"

"Money means very little to Mr. F."

Harry grumbled.

"Who's Mr. F? Mr. Faucet, Mr. Famous, Mr. Ferret…Is there a Mr. E too? C, D…F? I know the alphabet, you see."

She pushed her way out of the bathroom, significantly cheered up.

"Who is she?" asked Albus.

"Bellatrix Lastr—Black," said Harry. "She's staying with relatives at 12 Grimmauld Place."

"How do you know?"

"Voldemort's staying there, too."

"Why do you call him that?"

"It's a little more distinctive than 'Tom,' though I'll slip that one in occasionally 'cause he hates it so much."

"I doubt I'll ever be able to call him anything but Tom," said Albus.

"To his face, you never will," said Harry, pushing his way out of the bathroom behind Bellatrix. "And you'll be one of the only ones to call him 'Voldemort.'"

"What will others call him?"

"Well, his followers call him 'the Dark Lord' and such. The older people I knew called him 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,' and younger people just called him 'You-Know-Who.'"

"Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself," said Albus.

"That's what you always said," Harry smiled.

"Did I? I don't recall," Albus joked.

"When did you come up with that mantra anyway?"

"It was an uncommon truth out of an otherwise evil man I once knew."

Harry understood and dropped the subject.

They followed Bellatrix's bobbing curls through the carefree dancers and diners out into the courtyard. They went through the courtyard, soaking up its magic, and stepped through the gate. Their clothes didn't change, and the magic of the restaurant clung to them as they moved away from the glowing archway.

"Have you ever side-along apparated before, Bellatrix?"

"How did you know my name?"

"You told me earlier, remember?" lied Harry.

"I don't tell my name to strangers. I said my name was Ms. B."

"You're right. You caught me. I know your name because I know your parents," said Harry, backpedaling.

"Ok."

"So, have you ever side-along apparated?"

"No. I'm not allowed."

"Why not?"

"Mummy says so."

"Well, it's the fastest way to get you home. Would it be alright with you if we apparated you home?"

"No. You'll tell mummy."

"I won't tell her if you don't tell her," said Harry.

"Ok," she said, cheering up. "How do I do it?"

"Just hold on tightly to my arm. Don't let go." He reached down and let Bellatrix grab his forearm. He sturdily but not painfully grabbed her arm just above the elbow. Albus put his hand on Harry's upper arm.

"Ready? Take a deep breath. This is going to feel a little weird. Why don't you count to three, and then we'll go."

Bellatrix nodded solemnly and began counting slowly. "One. Two. Three."

The three of them disappeared. Harry tried to get them there as quickly as possible to spare Bellatrix from an excess of the feeling of being stuck through a tube. In doing this, their journey was instantaneous. There was hardly any sensation at all.

No sooner had they reappeared than Bellatrix was bubbling over with enthusiasm. "That was so cool! I can't wait until I learn how to apparate. Can we do it again?"

"I believe it is time to get you home," said Albus. He let go of Harry's bicep as he peered around the urban nightscape.

"It's this house over here!" said Bellatrix, pulling Harry by the hand.

They went through the iron gate and approached the door. Bellatrix paused.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"I'm going to be in trouble," she said glumly.

"You have your mother's necklace," said Albus. "Don't forget to give it back."

"I'm not sure I want to go…"

Just then the door burst open, and the three people standing on the stair flinched backward. A wide man stood in the doorway, this bowtie loose and untied around his neck. The cummerbund from his tux missing.

"What the ruddy hell are you doing at the door at two in the morning?" Harry could smell alcohol heavily on his breath. The large man caught sight of the little girl. "Bellatrix!" He turned to Harry and Albus. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAUGHTER!" He turned back to Bellatrix. "GET INSIDE. I'll deal with you later. What were you thinking, running off like that. Idiot child." He grabbed her arm and flung her around his massive body and into the house. Harry heard a feeble squeak. A woman began to shout somewhere in the house, but Harry's view was blocked.

The hulking man rounded on Harry and Albus. "I'll deal with _you _NOW!"

Harry felt Albus's aura fumbling around and latched on. The message was clear.

_Run_.

They ran, stumbling down the stairs, through the gate, and out onto the street, curses ricocheting after them.

* * *

**A/N: What happens to Harry and Albus with an angry drunk child-abusing wizard running after them? **_**Oh no.**_


	33. Mind the Gap

**A/N: Short chapter. I'll be back to real plot soon. I do realize that there are a lot of loose ends that I need to revisit. I will be doing that soon. BY the way, I've got a new Beta. Her name is…well…I'll ask her for a pseudonym. She's very excited to beta. She beta'd this chapter. YAY.**

* * *

Harry and Albus dashed down the stairs of number 12, through the gate, and stumbled out onto the pavement of Grimmauld Place. Albus yanked Harry to the left, and they tore off down the street with curses flying past their heads. Harry tried to shield himself and Albus while they ran.

Harry's patent leather shoes and Albus's boots pounded on the pavement for a block, and another. They ducked around a corner to their right and Harry immediately recognized where they were, though he hadn't recognized the direction they'd been going.

King's Cross Station loomed in front of them. They sprinted towards it, ducking to make their targets smaller. The heavy breathing of Cygnus Black began to fade into the background despite the nighttime silence around them. Harry took the lead.

"This way." He led Albus into the station. Instead of going towards the trains and Platform 9 and ¾, Harry and Albus ducked down the stairs to the Underground platforms. Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, they stopped.

"Why did we run? She needed our help! We could have taken him." Harry stopped talking to catch his breath, leaning against a bronze plaque with a raised diagram of the Underground map.

"Harry, those were Hogwarts parents. I ran because I thought it would be better if they didn't recognize us. What if they had recognized us and decided to take Andromeda out of Hogwarts? Or decide not to send Bellatrix and Narcissa? The best thing for them is to be out of that house when she is eleven. Do you suppose our Mr. Black would send his children to a school after the headmaster and one of the professors attacked him? He certainly wasn't going to listen to an explanation."

"So that's your solution? To just leave her with that horrible family where she is hurt and isn't fed and they make her do all of the chores and her cousin picks on her and they make her live in a closet under the stairs and lie to her about how her—"

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry didn't get to answer, because just then, a thick beam of light shot down the stairs and was absorbed into the floor in front of them. Footsteps pounded down the stairs. Harry moved to meet them, but Albus grabbed the back of Harry's vest and held him back. Albus cracked his wand over Harry's head, and Harry felt the distinct feeling of a disillusionment charm descend over his body. Before he could react, Albus dragged him backwards across the platform away from the stairs. They were thirty feet away when Cygnus came into view.

"I saw you bastards come down here! When I find out who you are, you're going to Azkaban!"

Albus was always right.

Cygnus stalked blindly in their direction, firing curses randomly across the platform or into the dark train tunnel. Harry backed into Albus who'd backed into a wall. Harry could hear Albus's breath ragged in his ear. They were both still slightly out of breath from their flight. Harry used his body aura to help calm and silence his own and Albus' breathing.

Both Harry and Albus, pressed against the wall, felt when the station started shaking slightly. The shaking was followed by a rumbling. The rumbling grew louder and was followed by…headlights from the end of the tunnel farthest from them. Cygnus looked around for the source of the rumbling and spotted the train. Noticing that Cygnus was distracted, Harry grabbed Albus's arm and pulled him across the wall at the end of the platform, until they were against the wall that paralleled the tracks. They crept along the wall towards Cygnus, passed Cygnus, and continued back towards the stairs to the rest of the station.

The train rumbled into the station. Its breaks screamed as it came to a stop. Harry and Albus reached the stairs, but stopped as they heard Cygnus roar in frustration.

"I WILL GET YOU. You'll _pay _for this. And if anybody finds out!"

He stomped towards the stairs and the invisible Harry and Albus. Harry and Albus backed away from the stairs towards the train to get out of his way. He stalked past them and stood at the bottom of the stairs. He looked around once more, scanning the empty platform. Seeing no one, he shouted an expletive, and sent a curse at the wall before trudging up the stairs.

The curse hit the plaque on the wall and ricocheted off to hit the train window. From there it reflected off again, and hit Albus squarely in the thigh. Albus gasped in pain and crumpled to the ground. Cygnus heard the sound and came running back down the stairs. He spotted a visible splatter of blood on the ground under Albus, and drew out his wand.

Harry saw the wand, and acted without thinking. He grabbed Albus around the middle, and carried him under his arm through the sliding double doors of the train. The doors slid shut, and the train started moving. Harry waited until the train was safely in the dark tunnel before he started breathing again. He immediately lowered Albus to the floor, placing his back to one of the walls.

"Where…where is it?" Harry asked.

Albus forced the air out of his lungs and gestured to his left leg. His hand shook.

Harry needn't have asked. Blood was soaking through Albus's white pants just above his left knee.

Harry didn't ask permission before severing the leg of Albus's trousers above the bloody patch. Realizing he wouldn't be able to pull the fabric down without aggravating Albus's wound, he wandlessly vanished it.

His eyes widened when he saw the source of the blood. A tangled web of cuts had minced the skin above Albus's knee. There was a patch at least ten centimeters square where the lines intersected. They were thin and clear, but deep enough to leave scars.

Harry tried to remember—what could have possibly made a wound like this? He closed his eyes and groaned.

It was a perfect map of the London Underground.

He bit his lip. "Alright, I'm going to heal you now, Albus."

Albus grabbed his wrist, and Harry met his eyes. "Leave the scar."

"What?"

"It might come in handy."

"Albus, you've lost a lot of blood. You're not thinking clearly."

"If I regret the decision, I can remove it later. Leave the scar."

Harry couldn't argue with his logic, but hesitated.

"Harry, dear, I'm about to slip into unconsciousness. If it's not too much to ask, would you please close that up…"

Harry mentally smacked himself and started working, careful to leave the scar. He knit the deeper tissue back together, and then began sealing the surface. The train slowed, stopped, and started up again.

Harry looked up to see Albus was frowning in pain. "Almost done," Harry muttered. Albus took a shaky breath.

Harry finished knitting the skin back together, leaving the scars suspiciously perfect. Harry could read the little letters carved into Albus's skin next to the little paths that made up the train lines.

"How does it feel?" asked Harry.

"Better," Albus grimaced as he sat up a little straighter. The train slowed again and stopped. Harry looked out the window and spotted the name "Holloway Road" tiled into the platform wall.

"Er, sorry. Do you mind?" Harry asked, gesturing at Albus's leg.

Albus chuckled, and Harry bent to examine the map now engraved over Albus's knee. Without much difficulty, he found King's Cross and then Holloway Road.

"It looks like we're going north," said Harry. "We can get off and apparate if you'd like or—"

"I would like to sit for a while, if that's alright with you, Harry."

"Alright."

The train started moving again and picked up speed.

"Are you sure you want that scar, Albus? You can't really want 'Queens Park' engraved on your leg forever."

Albus looked affronted. "I couldn't think of anything better than 'Queens Park' to be engraved on my leg forever. It suits me perfectly."

"Really, Albus? And what about 'Old Street'?"

"Clearly it means I will live to a ripe old age. You can attest."

"What about 'Arsenal?'" Harry asked, as they slid into that very station.

"Where would we be without it?" smiled Albus, gazing up to the sign.

_Where would I be without you, _thought Harry. He found himself opening his mouth to say it before he realized that it was Fawkes compelling him to do so. He slammed his mouth shut.

He realized that his legs were falling asleep. He'd been kneeling over Albus for quite a while. Before he sat down, though, he noticed that the floor of the train was still covered in blood.

"Do you still need any of this?" he asked Albus. He gestured to the blood. Albus looked up at him, confused. Harry tried to meet his eyes while keeping a straight face, but the look of pure confusion was too much for Harry. Harry lips quirked up, and before he knew it he was shaking with laughter. He put his hand down onto the floor to steady himself, but hit the slick of blood instead and slid sideways. He fell heavily, his head landing on Albus's chest. Albus wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, but then Harry felt his chest begin to shake as he chuckled.

Harry straightened up and leaned back against the wall of the train next to Albus. He looked at his bloody hands.

"Yuck." He wiped them on Albus's white vest. Albus turned his head very slowly to glare up over at Harry. He waved his hand, and the blood on the vest disappeared.

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry. "I didn't know you could do wandless magic yet."

"I didn't know I could either," said Albus. "You must be rubbing off on me."

"Obviously," said Harry, wiping more blood off his hands onto Albus's pristine vest. Albus waved his hand again, and all of the blood disappeared off his vest, the floor, and Harry.

"Maybe it's because you insist on prodding me with your magic every time you need to communicate something. I would suggest that if you want to continue dragging me into your scrapes that we should come up with a means of verbal communication." Albus shifted and winced.

"What's wrong? Did I miss something?"

"Ah, no. I'm afraid I'm just…sitting on my wand." He rummaged beneath himself and pulled out his wand. "I'd be quite morose if I'd have broken this," he said.

"Yeah. Makes you feel deathly hollow." Harry mentally slapped himself and started gibbering. "I mean. Uh. I broke my wand one time and I felt terrible. For a long time. Until I fixed it." Why were there still so many secrets?

"Deathly hollow indeed," muttered Albus.

They sat listening to the train rumble along for a few minutes. The train pulled into stations and left. The car remained empty except for Harry and Albus. As they were pulling into Arnos Grove, Harry asked, "What time is it?"

Albus pulled out his wrist to look at his watch.

The face had cracked—or had been smashed, rather. Pieces of glass were missing entirely, and the hands were bent in odd angles. The gold had deep gouges in it, and there was a piece of a spring emerging from under the surface of the face.

"Oh dear," was all he said.

"Albus, I can fix it. Look, see?"

Harry pulled Albus's wrist towards him, but Albus pulled his hand away.

"Don't. It's time has long past." He undid the clasp and slid it off his wrist. He slid it in his pocket. Harry didn't really know what to say.

"_Tempus_," said Albus. The time flashed in front of them. It was nearing four in the morning.

"Are you ready to go?"

"No," said Albus.

"Well, that's fine. We can just stay here until we get to…" He looked down at Albus's thigh finding the end of their train line. He spluttered and regained composure. "We'll just stay here until Cockfosters."

Albus's face remained entirely passive.

"Excellent."

"Are you sure you don't want me to get rid of that scar?" Harry asked.

"I'm sure, but we could get off on a different stop."

"Why?"

"Clearly it would make you more comfortable," he joked. "What's the stop before that?"

"Oakwood."

"And before that?"

"Southgate."

"And before that?"

"None."

"In that case, we'd best wait until Cockfosters."

Before they reached the stop, Harry helped Albus up to his feet. Albus flexed his knee a few times to make sure everything was working properly, and the train ground to a stop. The doors slid open.

"Mind the gap," he told Albus.

They disembarked. Albus turned to hold onto Harry, and they disappeared.

* * *

**A/N: By the way, none of the stop names in this chapter were made up. They're all real. Yes. Really. Cockfosters.**

**Next chapter: Harry gets ready for the Halloween Ball. **

**Please review! I'll publish faster!**


	34. Building a Mystery

**A/N: My beta has christened herself Thea. This is beta'd by…Thea. Thanks, Thea.**

**Note to beaspaz: You're the fifth person to tell me I write like Douglas Adams, but I've never read any of his books, so I'm not trying nor failing to imitate him. I'll write you more on my profile. **

Harry awoke to the feeling of the arm over his eyes going numb. He picked the arm (his arm) up off his face and groaned as the light from the windows attacked his eyes. He rolled onto his side, but something round dug into his hip from within his pocket. He groaned again and kept rolling. He fell stiffly to the floor, and thrashed around to get some mobility in his restrictive clothes.

Looking down at himself, he realized that he hadn't changed out of his formal clothes from the previous night. He was still wearing his tuxedo vest and trousers. No sooner had he wondered where his original clothes were, than he spotted them folded neatly on a chair in the middle of the room.

Looking at the chair, he had the image of several leprechauns coming in and putting them there in the night.

Harry stood up from the ground and began peeling off his fancy clothing. He discarded the vest, only to have it clunk as it hit the floor. He remembered the round thing that had been digging into his side. He scooped the vest back up and rummaged around until he found…the watch from the vault in one of the pockets.

The unscratched gold shone, but the crystal face of the watch didn't glare in the sunlight. Harry could see the face perfectly, and all twelve of its arms and planets.

According to the watch, the time was half past two in the afternoon. He'd been sleeping for almost twelve hours. He tossed the watch back onto his purple comforter and went to take a shower.

In the shower, Harry went through the day before. It had been a long day. He'd gone shopping at the bookstore with Minerva, discovered the vault, met Nicolas Flamel (and solved the mystery of Albus's secretive correspondences). They'd discovered the kitchens dysfunctional, and consequentially ate at the most expensive restaurant in Europe, Comede Noctem. They'd visited Grimmauld Place, been chanced away from Grimmauld Place, and had ridden the Underground. Harry felt like he'd been gone for a week.

He needed to retrieve the books that he'd left in vault. He got out of the shower and dressed without magic. He sat down on his pile of clothes from the day before, and pulled on his clean socks. As he leaned to the side for balance, he heard paper crinkling underneath him. He stood and took the old clothes off the chair to find a newspaper there. On it was a note.

_Harry,_

_I wasn't sure if you subscribe to the Prophet, but I thought you'd enjoy this article. It was wonderful meeting you last night, and I hope I will have the pleasure again soon._

_Yours,_

_-N. Flamel_

Harry looked under the note to see Albus looking back at him in black and white, smiling mysteriously. The headline was "_DUMBLEDORE DISCOVERS USES OF DRAGON BLOOD_." Harry scanned the page smiling faintly. He chuckled at one of the quotes: "'_It was a pleasure watching it all happen. I've witnessed a lot in my life, but_ _Albus's work is inspirational. To watch the crease in his brow as he studied his subjects with the utmost care. To see the precision of his un-shaking hands. To watch the sweat trickle down his cheek in moments of cruciality. The experience was spiritual. I hope to witness his work again,' says Flamel, Dumbledore's financial backer. But what the question scholars are asking now is, will the price of dragon blood increase with this new…"_

Harry put down the newspaper when his stomach growled. He could read the article later; he had a lot to do. First he needed to get the books from the vault. He needed to go without Minerva knowing, or she would beg to go along and they would wind up in the vault all day. After that, he needed to talk to Albus about Bellatrix. Well—first, he needed to eat breakfast.

It was late, so Harry figured the great hall would be mostly empty. Food was served most of the day on Sundays, though, so he would be able to eat in the great hall despite the hour. He dropped nimbly out of his tower and went to the great hall. He was pleased to see the hall empty except for Albus sitting at the staff table; he could have his conversation with Albus and eat breakfast at the same time.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully to Albus as he slid into the chair next to him. Albus nodded to him. Harry turned to his plate and loaded it up.

"Did you sleep ok?" he asked conversationally.

Albus nodded.

"How's your leg?"

"There's no pain."

"Do you still want the scar?"

"Yes."

"Did you see the _Prophet_?"

"Yes. I'll have some words for Nicolas about that stunt. I've been asked to visit several major research labs to present our findings. I'd hoped that this wouldn't happen until the summer, but I'm afraid I'll have to be absent from school for a month or so."

"Oh. Where will you go?"

"The details haven't been settled, but I will be traveling to North America first."

"Wow. When will you leave?"

"Tonight."

Harry ate for a minute or two, not really sure how to respond. "So, I was thinking," he said after swallowing his food, "I'm worried about Bellatrix. I don't think we left her in a very safe situation. I should stop by the Black's house and—"

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"I was just thinking I'd—"

"Harry, it isn't necessary."

"Not necessary? Did you see what they did to her?"

"She's better off without our interference. We cannot risk her parents discovering our identities. Can you imagine the consequences?"

"I can imagine them perfectly," said Harry. "Besides, I can disguise myself perfectly, Albus. They'd never know it was me. I could disguise you too, if you wanted, but I bet you could do it yourse—"

"I'm not going with you and you're not going at all, Harry."

"It's not dangerous, Albus."

"It is dangerous and it is not necessary."

"Albus, this could ruin her life. She could be scarred and turned into a criminal—you have no idea what psychological damage she could have from being left with abusive guardians."

"And you do?"

Harry blanched. The true answer was "yes," and he would have won the argument by answering that way, but the answer "yes" would have had to come with "yes, you left me with abusive guardians for ten years and it was horrible."

Albus took Harry's pause to mean "no" and his eyes gleamed in triumph—or maybe bitterness.

Harry didn't want to bother correcting him. He took a different tact instead. "It's not dangerous."

"We were cursed at and chased for blocks, Harry."

"We're both fine."

"I got hit by a curse."

"And you're fine—or you would be if you'd let me heal that—"

"I'm not fine," whispered Albus.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I'M NOT FINE!" boomed Albus. His voice echoed across the empty hall.

"Well, why didn't you say so. I'll fix—" Harry reached out immediately with his magic towards Albus's leg only to encounter a wave of emotion that sent nausea to his stomach and fear to his heart. Harry cried out and recoiled physically, falling to the floor. Albus stood from his chair, towering over Harry.

"NOT EVERYTHING," he shouted. He paused, realizing he was yelling, and continued in a dangerously soft voice. "Can be fixed." He looked down, his hair falling in his eyes. He clutched his own bare left wrist with his right hand and kneaded it until his knuckles turned white. "There are always unexpected casualties," he whispered.

Harry didn't say anything. He was trying to repress the bile rising into his throat caused by his brush with Albus's feelings of regret and anguish.

Albus let go of his wrist and put his hand in the pocket of his robes. Harry could see the tendons in Albus's arm clenching his hand into a fist in his robes. Albus exhaled and turned around. As he was leaving Harry heard him mutter, "Don't be a fool and break something else you can't fix."

Harry eventually moved to sit back up on his chair. He sat with his head in his hands, frowning down at the rest of his cold, uneaten food. What had he done? He couldn't remember doing anything particularly untoward. He couldn't believe Albus could have gotten so angry at Harry without an obvious cause. He'd never even seen Albus that angry, had he?

He thought back to his school days, and remembered the end of his fourth year when Professor Dumbledore had discovered that Moody—or Barty Crouch Jr. had taken Harry from the third task maze. Harry remembered thinking that he finally understood why Dumbledore was the only person Voldemort had ever feared, because Professor Dumbledore was terrifying when he was angry. Harry understood completely why Professor Dumbledore had been furious at that time. Barty Crouch had led one of his students to be murdered, kidnapped his friend and held him prisoner for months, and helped his enemy return. The causes for his anger were obvious.

Albus Dumbledore was a remarkably understanding man, though, and Harry couldn't remember seeing him angry about anything else. He hadn't gotten angry when Fudge refused to believe Voldemort was back, or when Pettigrew escaped. So, what was it that could have made him so angry at Harry?

–But though Harry couldn't remember seeing Professor Dumbledore that angry, he had heard of him being angry during his time at Hogwarts. The instance that came to mind was when the dementors had attacked the Quidditch match in his third year. Harry knew that Dumbledore detested dementors, but what had merited such fury? Harry decided that revisiting the memory might help him understand what would make Albus that angry at him, Harry.

He got up from the table and made his way up to the Room of Requirement. As he paced, he thought, _I need a place to review my memories. I need a pensive. I need a place to look at my memories of the future._ The door appeared and Harry went in. There was pensive on a table. Harry wasted no time in pulling the memory of the Quidditch match out of his head and dropping it into the pensive. He dove in after it.

Sheets of rain sliced through Harry as he stood in memory mud. A shrill whistle of wind pierced his ears. Harry shivered, despite the fact that the rain didn't touch him. Harry could barely make out fourteen grayed-out players struggle into the air.

He squinted around at the stands, trying to spot the silver-white beard of his Professor Dumbledore. He couldn't find him, so he found a staircase into the stands. He climbed up, temporarily sheltered from the blinding rain, and emerged in a throng of drenched bodies. He began making his way around the stands. After two laps around the whole stadium, Harry still hadn't found Dumbledore. Lightning crackled in the sky, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle to signal the players to stop. Harry watched the players land in the deep mud and make their ways over to a large tent at the edge of the field. Harry saw Hermione dart out to talk to his younger self. Harry felt a wave of affection for her as he saw her tap his glasses and run back off into the crowd.

Lost in the action of the game, Harry almost missed the familiar voice that shouted through the gale from behind him.

"I'm beginning to regret not taking Albus up on that cup of coca he offered! Don't you dare tell him I said that, of course. The old coot's probably looking out his office window at us thinking—"

Professor McGonagall's voice was drowned out in the wind, but Harry didn't need to hear more, nor did he turn to see who Professor McGonagall was talking to. He darted through the crowd and exited the stadium. He ran across the lawn and burst through the entry hall making straight for the stairs to the seventh floor. After spending a minute trying to figure out how to get through the password protected entry to the Headmaster's office, Harry remembered that he was insubstantial in memory and could walk through walls. He bounded up the frozen escalator and slid through the door to the office. Professor Dumbledore was at the window, and he seemed to be talking to himself.

Harry wondered how he could possibly be seeing what he was seeing, as he had most certainly not in the room at the time the conversation had taken place. It must have been part of magical memory.

Harry moved into the room, trying to pick up what Dumbledore was saying

"…and perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one." The memory flickered, and Harry looked around alarmed. Were the dementors closing in? Why wasn't Professor Dumbledore running to his rescue?

"It will be difficult, but it will be better," said Dumbledore. He stroked Fawkes's head, and Fawkes looked straight at Harry.

The memory flickered again, and Fawkes fluttered agitatedly. Dumbledore's attention shifted to Fawkes.

"Now?" he asked the bird, surprised.

The memory dimmed and flickered again.

"Harry…" Fawkes grabbed Dumbledore by the shoulders of his robes and they vanished in a whirl of flame.

The memory blacked out completely and Harry found himself back in the Room of Requirement. It took him a moment to realize that he was face to face with the real, young, solid Albus. Harry shrieked in surprise and backed towards the door.

"W-well, I'm off, then," Harry stuttered. "That is, I need to go. To do some errands. I'm not visiting the Blacks. I'm just going to Gringotts. I promise." Harry fled the room.

Albus frowned stormily as Harry left, but continued directly over to the pensive without a glance back at Harry. He drew out one of his own memories from beneath his auburn hair and dropped it into the basin. He paused for a moment and followed the memory in nose first.

He plunged down into the basin, finding himself in his childhood bedroom. His younger self was lying in his twin bed. His legs were crossed, his arms were behind his head, and his eyes were closed. There was a tapping at the window, and his young self opened his eyes. The tapping at the window became more insistent. The teenage Albus sat up suddenly, peering around his bedroom. He swung out of bed and flew to the window. No sooner was the window open, than there was a sandy haired man crouching in the frame, the light curtains floating around him. Albus breathed in the scent of the summer night air, and that of the man crouching on his window sill.

"Do you happen to have the time, sir?" asked the man in the frame.

Albus smiled. "I'm afraid I don't."

"May I come in?"

Albus stepped aside.

"What kind of person are you, letting mysterious men into your bedroom just before midnight?"

"I thought you didn't know the time."

"I know the time. I was asking if you did."

"And since when were you mysterious?"

"Do you know why I'm here, Albus?"

"No."

"Then I am mysterious."

"I don't think that's mysterious as much as ambiguous."

Albus heard a small pop from somewhere on the blonde's person.

"Well, then, it's time for us to remove the ambiguity," the man said, grinning. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A watch shone in the moonlight. "I believe that it is a tradition to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age?"

Albus's face opened up, and his lips parted for a moment, before he covered his surprise. "Gellert, I'm not sure if I should just thank you or remind you that I've just turned eighteen, not seventeen."

"Well, I didn't know you when you turned seventeen, did I? I really must make up for lost time." Gellert moved past Albus into the room, but turned and pinned Albus against the sill.

Albus met his gaze for a moment, but blushed and looked away.

"It's midnight," said Gellert as he handed Albus the watch.

Albus took it, and examined it in the moonlight. There was an inscription on the back plate.

"'_G. G._' Is that for 'Gellert Grindelwald'?" asked Albus.

"That, my partner," Gellert said, taking the watch from Albus's hands and slipping it onto his wrist, "is for me to know, and for you to wonder about. Is that mysterious enough for you?"

"Enchantingly so," whispered Albus, and the two teens leaned towards each other.

The memory changed.

Icy rain fell through Albus's robes, and the wind howled around him. His boots sank inches deep into mud that couldn't touch him. He looked around, surveying the storm. The Quidditch stands rose around him, and the roar of a crowd could just be heard over the wind. Albus headed over to the stands, looking around. He ducked into a flight of stairs that was sheltered from the rain, turned on the landing, and nearly ran straight into himself.

Professor Dumbledore stood before him, his silver beard glistening slightly with drops of water.

"You should come with me," said the man in the memory before sweeping off in the direction of the exit.

The auburn haired man hesitated slightly before hurrying after his older self.

Soon the two men were back in the storm, fighting their way back to the castle. They finally reached the stairs and the empty entry hall. Professor Dumbledore dried himself wandlessly.

"Welcome. The year is 1993. Harry is in his third year, and I…I am still headmaster, remarkably."

They climbed the grand staircase and started treading the path towards the headmaster's tower.

"I believe…you have accidentally stumbled upon this memory after Harry left it in the Room of Requirement. The watch is broken. You are in pain. Harry does not understand why. You mustn't blame him, and you mustn't blame yourself. Of course, I have never figured out why he wanted to look at this particular memory, but it gives us a chance to talk."

"Or a chance for you to talk to me," said Albus.

"It isn't a two way communication, but I'm not senile yet," said Professor Dumbledore.

"In that case, how might I fix the watch?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Do you remember what the inscription said on the back of the watch?"

"Asking yourself rhetorical questions…"

"What did it stand for?"

"He gave me a watch with his initials. He called me his partner and gave me the watch."

"His partner," said Professor Dumbledore. "His partner in what?"

They reached the spiral escalator. "Crock-pot," said Professor Dumbledore, and the gargoyles leapt aside.

"You know perfectly well what we did as partners," said Albus.

"All too well. But have you forgotten your partnership for the Greater Good?"

Albus stopped at the landing, bringing one hand up to grip his bare wrist.

"Greater Good," he exhaled. Professor Dumbledore had gone into the office and was standing at the window. Albus followed him inside.

"There is no way to fix that, Albus, and perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one." The memory flickered and Albus looked around, slightly alarmed.

"It will be difficult, but it will be better," said Dumbledore. He stroked Fawkes's head, and Fawkes looked into the distance.

The memory flickered again, and Fawkes fluttered agitatedly. Professor Dumbledore's attention shifted to Fawkes.

"Now?" he asked, his grey eyebrows meeting with worry.

The memory dimmed and flickered again.

"Harry…" Fawkes grabbed Dumbledore by the shoulders of his robes and they vanished in a whirl of flame.

The memory blacked out, and Albus found himself back in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor.

Harry pushed the door of Minerva's closet open and peered into her bedroom. With much restraint, he'd managed to pick up his books from the vault, and left immediately through the vanishing cabinet that led to Minerva's rooms. Next, he needed to find Minerva. He needed a project to distract himself from Albus's mysterious fury. Harry was surprised to see a large lump in the bed, showing that Minerva hadn't gotten up. He felt his arm caught on something, and turned back to the wardrobe to detangle himself. He stepped backwards out of the wardrobe, promptly tripped over a pair of shoes and fell flat on his back.

Someone shrieked behind him.

"It's just me! It's Harry!" blurted Harry before Minerva started sending curses at him.

"Crockett! You gave me such a start. What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Sorry, I had to pick up the books from the vault. We left them there yesterday. I used your wardrobe because, well, I don't fancy a meeting with Albus right now."

Harry had gotten to his feet.

"Why? Did something happen between you two last night? Did he come onto you, Harry? I warned him, and I told him that if he—"

"No…Nothing like that," interrupted Harry. "I think I might have done something to upset him."

"I'm sure you didn't. Nothing upsets Albus. I've never seen him get angry. You must have misunderstood."

"I'm pretty sure he was angry. I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to talk to me. He got really scary. Anyway—what are you doing still in bed?"

"I…well, I like to sleep a lot." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh, alright. Nicolas took me home and, well, he's so interesting. He started telling me stories about his life and before we knew it, it was four in the morning. He doesn't exactly have a normal sense of time."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Crockett. That's all."

Harry snorted. "You mean he didn't braid your hair and let you paint his nails?" Minerva threw a pillow at him. "Sorry. I bet that was interesting. Do you want to look through these books?"

"That sounds lovely, but I'm not dressed, Crockett, and I'm rather starved. Maybe after I get dressed? And some food?"

Harry smiled and waved his wand. Trays of all different foods appeared. "What's your pleasure?"

"How _do_ you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Harry, I'm a transfiguration teacher. You can't…people can't…It's just…it's impossible to conjure food!"

"I guess I'm just mysterious."

**A/N: Mysterious…**

**I'm going to tie up some plot soon. I actually keep track of my plot threads. **** –Has anyone noticed that there've only been about…3 weeks of time passage? Or negative 70 years, depending on how you look at it. That must be some kind of record.**

**Review, please!**

**100,000 words!**


	35. Kite and Cat

**A/N: I now have two beta readers. This one was beta'd by Face of Bo's Child, as Thea is starting her final project that's due tomorrow. OH. Maybe I should do that. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review!**

**-Moonlight**

**Chapter 35**

Browning leaves fell from the deciduous trees of the Forbidden Forest as Harry and Minerva made their way through in search of an ideal clearing. Their feet crunched against the leaves, and their cloaks rustled. High above them, the Halloween October sky was completely clear and blue, but the morning air was nippy and not quite still. Minerva adjusted the bag over her shoulder and something clinked within. Harry followed, thrusting his hands deep into his thick cloak and jingling around the shrunken objects there as if they were coins.

"Don't break anything, Crockett. I don't want to have to buy those again."

"If I recall correctly, you didn't buy them in the first place."

"You know what I mean."

He did. It had taken weeks to assemble the supplies necessary for the potions to find their animagus forms, and Harry still wasn't convinced that some of them weren't just run-of-the-mill hallucinogenic drugs.

They broke into a clearing.

"This should work," said Minerva. "All right with you?"

Harry nodded, and they began setting up. First, they put down a large blue blanket and put stones on the corners so that it wouldn't move. Next, they set out the candles.

"I would have described this scene if you'd have asked me what witches did when I was ten," said Harry, chuckling.

"Weren't you raised by wizards?"

"Er…I just mean…Um, do you have any matches?"

"Are you a wizard or what, Crockett?"

"Oh, right," said Harry. He lit the candles with a wave of his wand.

"Sometimes I worry about you, Crockett."

"Don't."

"What were the candles for again?"

"I just thought they smelled nice, actually," said Harry.

She glared at him.

"Ok, they keep insects and animals away so that we aren't disturbed while we're in our trances."

Harry pulled some of the items out of his pockets and laid them out. There was a flask of water, and a large box of peanuts. The instructions said to "_suftain ye for lengthae trances_" by leaving easily accessible food and drink. Minerva set up her end of the blanket similarly to Harry's. Minerva conjured a small tartan cushion and sat down on it. Harry followed her example (except chose plain over tartan for his cushion). Next, Minerva pulled two vials out of her bag and handed one to Harry. She shook her own in front of her eyes.

"It might take us different amounts of time," said Harry. "So if you wake up first, please don't...I don't know…draw a mustache on me or anything."

"Could you grow a mustache if you wanted to?"

"Yes."

"Without magic?"

"Are you ready to start, Minerva?" She giggled and nodded. It was easy for Harry to forget he was talking to his old head of house.

He uncorked his vial and inhaled the smell deeply. Minerva did the same, and sighed. "Not bad. Who should go first?" she asked.

"I suppose we could both go at the same time."

"An excellent idea. Will you take the time from me?"

Harry nodded and Minerva counted down from three on her fingers, and they both drank.

Harry's eyes slid shut and he found himself unable to move. He heard the light wind rustle around him and smelled the candles and fauna. His breath deepened and then he blacked out.

The next thing he knew he was scampering along a tree branch, his whiskers twitching. His bushy tail bobbed around behind him as he wound around on the thick bark. He felt strange and out of place.

He blacked out again, and found himself fluttering inches from the ground, alighting on flowers, and taking off again. He harnessed the minute changes in the air to drift…he hardly had to beat his wings at all. It didn't feel quite right. He didn't have enough mass. He didn't have enough power (besides, of course, the ability to make a hurricane on the other side of the planet). He blacked out again.

Next he was slithering through the leaves trying to find a patch of sun with which to warm his slender body. He heard something scuttle near by and froze. He flicked out his forked tongue to taste the air. A mouse. He scooted forward silently, feeling powerful and smooth…but it wasn't quite right. The world faded.

Everything was dark and warm as he tunneled his way through soft soil. His whiskers brushed against the dirt when the tunnel was too small, and he pawed at it so that he could fit. He smelled insects ahead but was so repulsed by the idea of eating them that he blacked out again.

He hoofed gently through the forest, ducking his great antlers under trees, trotting, galloping. His tail was short and tufty, and his hoofs were silent. Being a stag felt the best out of all of the animals so far. He enjoyed the feeling of galloping swiftly through the trees, the air moving swiftly through his lungs, but something wasn't quite right. The stag he was sharing fit the best of the ones he'd tried, but he wished he could fly. He reluctantly let the world slip away again.

Beat. The world whistled around him. Beat. He opened his eyes, and all of Britain spread out below him. Beat. His perfect eyes could see a mouse on the ground half a mile away. His talons would let him catch it. He banked left and caught sight of his own auburn wings stretching a meter on either side. For the first time during his trance, he felt Fawkes whooping in delight before starting a mental conversation with the bird itself who was more than happy to show off for them.

It ended too soon for Harry. Before he knew it, he was back in his body in the clearing on his pillow and able to move. The first thing he noticed was that the light had changed completely. It was no longer early morning; Harry guessed it must be mid-afternoon. The air hadn't gotten much warmer, but the dew had evaporated. Minerva was still sitting across the blanket from him. She sat frozen upright with her eyes closed and a blank expression on her face.

The sensations in Harry's body took that moment to come back to him; he was starving and his legs were falling asleep. He picked up the flask of water and the box of peanuts and laboriously stood up. He paced in the clearing, popping handfuls of peanuts into his mouth and taking swigs of water from the flask. The leaves crunched under his feet, but he was too busy recalling the flight of the bird to notice.

In his month and a half of study since his encounter in Minerva's bedroom in the middle of September, their first study session, he'd decided to try to become a normal animagus, to be able to transform into a non-magical animal. After succeeding, he would try to change his form into a phoenix. It made sense that his non-magical form had been so close to that of a phoenix.

The objective of the trance had been to find his form, and, once he had found it, observe enough details to identify the specific species once he was back. Sometimes, according to the book, finding the specific species could be the most difficult part. Harry understood that if he'd gotten some sort of rodent it might have been harder, but Harry already knew what he was. The two-meter wingspan, the sharp talons, the keen eyesight—he was certain that his form was the Red Kite.

Red Kites were a species of birds once common in the United Kingdom in the 1400s to the point of nuisance, and had since almost completely died out. Harry had learned about them in Care of Magical Creatures because they had begun to reside almost exclusively in the Forbidden Forest after King James II of Scotland had ordered them to all be killed. Despite learning about them in class, they were not magical creatures. They had adopted a brighter red color since moving to the Forbidden Forest, but had shown no real signs of magical capability.

It was just past four in the afternoon when Minerva finally woke up. She stretched and yawned like a cat before looking up at Crockett, who'd been pacing for quite some time thinking about the actual transformation process.

"What time is it," she asked. She reached for her food and water.

"Just past four," Harry replied. Minerva raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Maybe a little over an hour," said Harry. "How did it go?"

"Fine," she said through a mouthful of salami and crackers. "It was strange," she said. "Have you ever experienced anything like that?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I've had some weird out of body experiences. This one wasn't so bad comparatively."

"Stop bragging. So, did you find your animal?"

Harry nodded. "I got a Red Kite. And you?"

"A tabby," she said smiling. "I can't wait to try it out."

"I suppose it'll be a couple of months, but, yeah. I can't wait either."

"Months?" asked Minerva, shocked. She stopped eating.

Harry frowned. "Well, yes. We have to do each part separately and then…" he trailed off as Minerva's face fell. "Didn't you read the books?"

"Well, I did, but I thought you could help it go faster," she said in a moment of candid honesty.

It was also the first time she'd acknowledged his abnormal power. He frowned.

"I didn't realize you assumed that," he said. She suddenly looked so much younger—younger than him. He realized that he'd almost taken on a mentor role with the animagus project—but how stupid he'd been to think she had never noticed his extra powers. She was a bright woman, after all, but her comments always led Harry to believe she thought Harry's stories to be bragging and his magic to be tricks and sheer dumb luck.

He looked at her and contemplated her face. He'd been planning to do the whole transformation the normal way so that he could help Minerva, but if the cat was out of the bag about his powers, maybe he could move them both along faster.

He grinned suddenly. "Well, alright."

As he'd been pacing for the hour before Minerva woke up, he had contemplated how he'd do his own transformation if he were to do it his own way rather than the normal way. He could just…do it, but how would he help Minerva?

"Well, so, the book says, to go piece by piece. It says that smaller pieces are easier than larger pieces, and once you know how to transform one piece of the anatomy to the animal and back, you never forget. When you finish all the pieces, you can turn into the whole animal and back. It takes so long, because you have to find each part of your body and change it…but I think we can make that go faster. I think I could do my whole body at one time, and I could help you, too."

"Well, you can't just transfigure me," said Minerva. "Animagus transformations are different from normal animal transfiguration."

"Yes," said Harry, "but I think I can help anyway."

"So, are you ready?" she asked.

"What, now?"

"Well, yes, now. If you're up to it," she challenged.

"Alright, alright," said Harry. "Um…" he was suddenly self conscious. "This is going to be really strange for you. See, I…Well, I can, um…"

"Spit it out, Crocket. I know you're a special snowflake. Just tell me what I need to do."

"Fine. I can manipulate my aura and I'm going to use it to get inside your head and show you what you need to do to get into your form." She was gob smacked. "If…that's ok with you," he added.

"Special snowflake indeed," she muttered, still looking slightly alarmed. "No wonder Albus likes you so much."

Harry felt a twinge of pain as Minerva mentioned Albus. Harry hadn't heard from Albus since he'd left on his academic dragon blood tour over a month earlier. He occasionally spotted mentions of Albus in the Prophet saying that he was speaking about his dragon blood discoveries at some university in America or even Britain sometimes, but had no specific information about his activities beyond that, nor did he know when Albus would return. Albus hadn't written, and, fearing his wrath, Harry hadn't written either. Minerva's stony reluctance to talk about Albus suggested that she hadn't been receiving any mail either, but Harry never asked.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Well, let's get on with it then," she said.

"You really want me to do it?" asked Harry.

"I suppose. It'll save me months of time that I don't have. In case you haven't noticed, I've been running a school and will be for Merlin knows how long."

Harry shrugged. "Alright. Whatever you say. We should sit down. This is going to be quite odd."

They arranged their cushions face to face on the blanket and sat cross-legged across from each other. Harry put his wand on the blanket between them.

"Er…We should hold hands," said Harry. Minerva smirked at him but took his hands as he offered them. "Don't panic," he said. "This is going to feel strange. Just relax."

She took a comically large deep breath to show him that she was ready. Then, he felt out to her with his body aura through their fingers.

"Crockett…"

"Yes, Minerva?"

"My fingers are tingling."

"Yes, Minerva."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting to know your body so that I can help you change it," he said as he moved up her arms with his aura. He was in all the way to her shoulders when he sneezed.

He jerked forward, and one of Minerva's arms twitched.

"Crockett! Was that you? I didn't do that! Stop, please! Get out! Something isn't right."

Harry backed out of her hastily and she dropped his hands.

"What's the matter?"

"Harry, I'm not sure about this. It's my body and you're a man and…And what would happen when you got to other parts of my body? Parts that you don't have? I can't trust that you aren't just doing this to…well, take advantage. You could do anything to me."

"I—what?"

"I could feel you—in my arms. You could have made them move as if they were yours."

"That's true, but—"

"I can't trust that you wouldn't just…I mean, you haven't a girlfriend or…and we've been spending so much time…"

Harry looked at her incredulously before closing his eyes and massaging his temples in frustration.

"Minerva, I'm not going to make you do anything. I don't have a girlfriend because I don't want a girlfriend. I'm not interested in possessing your body spiritually or physically. I just want to help you with your transformation."

"Yes, but you'll be in my body and it'll all be there for you to," she screwed up her face, "_feel_. And you're a…man."

Harry sighed. "Minerva." He sighed again. "I fancy blokes. I'm going to feel you, but I'm not going to feel you up."

"Blokes?" she asked, ceasing her panicked fidgeting.

"Yes, blokes."

"But you were married to a woman," she protested.

"And now I'm not," he replied simply.

"Blokes?"

"Blokes, chaps, men."

"Well, why didn't you say so?"

Harry grimaced. "Albus thought you'd come up with all sorts of stories about me and him and you'd never stop bothering him."

"I bother him anyway."

Harry smiled.

"Alright. Well, then. You'd best get on with it. Don't burst any of my arteries, please," she said.

He looked up at her in surprise. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Just…don't linger," she said.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he reassured, taking her proffered hands.

He started the process again of moving up through her arms. He could feel her discomfort and fear when he got to her chest, but she didn't make a sound. Their hearts began to beat in time. When he got to her stomach, he could feel it digesting the snack she'd eaten, and he could feel her nervousness. He moved lower, and Minerva tensed. He quickly finished her pelvis and legs and then started back up higher, working on her neck. When he got to her face, Harry could feel her blush, and then he could look out through her eyes.

"Are you ok?" he asked, paying special attention to use his own mouth and not hers.

He felt her nod. "This is really weird, though," she said through gritted teeth.

He couldn't help using a little of his body-aura magic to calm her down a little, and he could feel it when she physically relaxed.

"Ok. Next, I'm going to use my magic to sort of get inside your magic like how I did this. Is that ok?"

She nodded.

He felt for his magical aura in the wand between them, and let it reach out to Minerva. Minerva's magic was in her body (like anyone but Harry) and was strongest in her wand hand (Minerva's right hand), the mind, the eyes, and the heart. Seeing this helped Harry understand why it was easiest to curse someone with eye contact.

Minerva gasped, and Harry could feel her surprise and awe in her physicality.

"Is that you?" She was growing short of breath. "You're so…powerful." Harry helped steady her breathing and evened out her temperature.

"Minerva," he said through his own mouth, finding his own body out of breath with the effort and concentration he was using on Minerva. "I need you to remember what it was like being the cat. Feel it."

Minerva frowned in concentration, and Harry could feel flicks of sensation…rough paws, light fur, a swishing tail…He helped her enhance the memory into sensation until he could feel the cat in Minerva's whole body.

"Ready? Ready to shift?"

She nodded with her eyes still closed.

Harry used his magic to guide her magic all over her body, turning each part into the part of cat it was feeling. He felt the sensations of her body changing even more from memory to reality until she was a foot off the ground and purring, quite pleased with herself. Upon completing the transformation, Harry pulled out of her magic and body and looked at her through his own eyes.

She was, indeed, a tabby cat of average size with rectangular markings around her eyes where her spectacles had been. Harry grinned and let out a whoop of triumph. Minerva rolled her big, green eyes at him and nodded as if to say "get on with it."

"You look great," he told her. He conjured a mirror brought it down to her. She looked through at herself, her eyes dilating to slits when she caught a glimpse of the sun behind her. She looked back up at him expectantly and meowed.

"My turn, then," he said.

He sat back down on his cushion and closed his eyes. He remembered his talons, his wings, his beak. He felt his feathers and the lightness of his bones, the dexterity of his tail. Then, he let his magic loose and changed the memory to reality.

He opened his eyes to find himself face to face with the tabby cat Minerva who looked mildly startled. Harry opened his mouth to make a witty comment, but what came out was a piping cry that pierced through the forest. Minerva scampered backwards in alarm before approaching again. Harry hopped from the blanket and onto the floor of the clearing before stretching out his wings. It was just as he'd felt in the trance, only it was his own wings he moved rather than feeling the wings of another bird. He glanced quickly at Minerva before launching himself into the air.

Flight with his own wings was better than riding a hippogriff or thestral, and better, even, than riding a broom. He circled over the forest a few times, feeling the strength of his shoulders and how much his forked tail maneuvered him. He spotted the clearing again easily, and swooped down into it. Minerva wasn't on the blanket anymore. It only took him a moment of looking about to spot her motion in a branch of a tree. He took off again and landed next to her with another cry of delight. She meowed hello, and took a playful swipe at him with one of her paws. He snapped back at her with his sharp beak jokingly before swooping back to the ground.

He looked back up as Minerva paced across the branch back towards the trunk. Then she stopped, eyeing the trunk nervously. She glanced up at Harry, and if she'd been human, Harry could tell she would have been blushing.

Could she not get down? Harry laughed (which came out more like a squawk), remembering how cats are always getting themselves stuck in trees, their claws being curved in a way more suited to climbing up trees than down. Minerva glared over at him as she pawed the trunk.

Harry flew back up to the branch and then jumped off and landed lightly on the ground, trying to illustrate a suggestion that she should just jump down.

She shook her head.

He flew back up and hovered above her, reaching out his talons to carry her down, but she batted him off with a paw. Resigned, Harry went back down to the ground. Really, the fall was not that far.

Minerva looked at Harry for a moment, and then waved her paw in a way that said quite distinctly, "go away."

Harry didn't move.

She waved more insistently, and Harry shook his head. Minerva bristled, her ears went back, and she outright hissed down at Harry. Harry burst into a squawking fit of laughter. Minerva glared at him from the tree. Finally, with one last withering look at Harry, she gripped the claws of her front paws on the trunk of the tree as if she were going to climb higher. Then, she moved her back paws below herself, and started to back down the tree.

Harry toppled over laughing, and had to flutter his long wings to right himself. Minerva hissed over her shoulder at him and slipped down the trunk a few feet before catching herself. She slowly inched her way down backwards before finally reaching the ground. She slunk back to the blanket, glaring at Harry. Harry stopped himself from laughing and went to join her on the blanket. The sun was setting, and the forest was getting quite dark. The Halloween feast would start at 6:30, and the party would begin at 8 o'clock. There was to be music and dancing and costumes, all of which needed to be chaperoned by the Deputy Headmistress and Professor Crockett, among others. They had to get back.

They settled onto their cushions on the blanket and Harry watched as Minerva closed her eyes. She opened them a minute later and looked around. Then she frowned (as much as a cat can frown, anyway), and closed her eyes again. Her scowl deepened as the seconds ticked by, and Harry realized she was having trouble changing back to human. She opened her eyes and looked at him pleadingly.

Harry sighed and closed his own eyes. He felt out his body aura, now totally different than it had been. The beating of his heart had changed, as well as the temperature of his blood. Now that he thought about it, his emotions were different. They were stronger and fainter in different places. Now Harry understood what Sirius had meant when he'd explained how his dog form had allowed him to survive Azkaban without going mad.

Harry felt out for the magic in his wand and began trying to remember what it was to be human. He tried to remember the sensation of fingers, of his eyes at his height, of hair instead of feathers…nothing. He couldn't feel it.

Panicking slightly, he tried harder. The wind on his skin, the wiggle of his toes…nothing. He couldn't make himself feel the human sensations.

He opened his eyes, and his terrified gaze met the wide eyes of the cat, Minerva.

The forest grew darker.

**A/N: Cliff hanger…heh. I've got a busy week and then I'll publish a bunch next week. **

**Next chapter: How will Harry and Minerva get out of their animagus forms? Will anyone miss them? When will Albus come back?  
**

**Review, please! I'll publish faster. Really. **


	36. Masquerade

**A/N: Wow, I managed to finish this chapter and publish from the middle of a rainforest. As I type this, I can see lightening, a bat, the tip of an active volcano, and twenty five bites on my leg. Thank you Face of Boe's Child (who says she wants a new name) for beta-ing this. Please review. It would be really cool to get back to real internet in two weeks and find like...30 new reviews. I think I'd cry. Happily. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

After a half hour of watching Harry's bird-glare intensify as he tried to turn himself back into a human, Minerva swatted out at him with one of her paws in frustration. Once she got his attention she nodded her head in the direction of the castle. She was right. Maybe they could find what they'd overlooked in the books.

Harry nodded in resignation and cast an eye over the provisions they'd brought. There was no way he wanted to carry all of the stuff back to the castle. Instead, he fished around in his pile of discarded clothes to find his auror bag. He gripped that in one clawed foot, and picked up his wand in the other before taking off. Minerva grabbed her wand with her mouth, careful not to scratch the polished wood with her sharp teeth. They set off, leaving the blanket and most of the supplies. Minerva bounded along the cluttered forest floor nimbly, and Harry flew low over the ground, careful not to run into branches as he slowed his pace to match Minerva's. Soon, the trees became less dense and dark, though the sun had set almost an hour before.

They reached the lawns and bounded up to the castle. Their first problem was that the front doors were shut. Minerva growled in frustration and pushed herself against the door, but it wouldn't budge. Harry did some tricky flying and positioned himself with his back against the door and then beat his massive wings.

Suddenly the door gave way and Harry shot backwards into the entry hall.

"I'll just nip out to the...er... carriage to pick up the rest of the instruments. You can start setting up the—"

The man was cut off as Harry's bag hit him in the face. Minerva scampered around the man's legs into the entry hall. Harry realized what had happened before the man did and quickly flew to the top of the staircase, out of reach of any curses that might come his way. None did, though.

"What the hell was that?" asked a young man-no more than fifteen years old- carrying what looked like a muggle musical amplifier. Harry assumed that the amps must be magical to work inside Hogwarts.

"It looked like some sort of bird carrying a bag," said the man Harry'd knocked with his bag, who only looked a little older than the other.

"That was one big bird," said the first man, shaking his bowl-shaped hair out of his eyes. "Did you see where it went? It shouldn't be flying around in here-or maybe it should. I'm starting to think there's something a little odd about this place."

"Yeah, I'm sure they have people for that. You should tell that McGonagall woman if she ever shows up, though."The man grinned.

"You still haven't seen her? She was supposed to be in charge today, right? That bloke Dumbledore's not back?"

"Yessir, captain, sir. Some woman named McGonagall was supposed to be in charge. I'd be complaining-but, ho, ho, look at this place! And what they're paying us? For a school gig? I wonder how come I've never heard of this school. Can you believe this? This could be our discovery!" The man cackled gleefully. "There we are, playing in a liverpool pub, some wiggy old man asks us about our band, and the next thing you know it..." he clicked his fingers "we're here! In...god knows where playing for a real gig! And in a castle! Ho, ho! I can feel it. There's something magical about today, old boy."

The two musicians were talking like muggles, completely unaware of their surroundings.

"Did you see that room yet? The one where we're preforming? That's some light show!"

"Yeah, I saw it. Did you show George?"

Harry groaned (which, out of his beak, sounded more like a balloon deflating). He and Minerva were stuck as animals, and at least three random muggle musicians were wandering around the ground floor and grounds unsupervised. Harry wondered what possible reason Dumbledore could have had to commission a muggle band for the Halloween party. Perhaps the statute of secrecy hadn't been implemented yet...? Had he just picked up some random group he'd heard while traveling? _Liverpool_? What sort of dragon-blood conventions were in Liverpool?

Pamona Sprout appeared at the doors to the Great Hall and the younger man with the amps turned to her. "Where would I find an electrical plug for these?" he asked her.

"An electrical plug?" asked Pamona. She smiled. "I'm afraid we don't have any. Can you manage without them?"

"If you want a _very quiet concert,_" stage whispered the older boy before disappearing out the front doors, grinning.

"Oh, I can fix that," said Pamona. "Just put all of your things in there by the stage. What did you say your band was called, again?" she said.

Harry turned to look at Minerva in exasperation, but she was gone, bounding down the corridor towards the next staircase. Harry took off and followed her, catching up when they reached the third floor. Minerva kept running. She tore up the next few flights of stairs, and before Harry knew it, they were beneath his own chambers. Minerva looked pointedly up at the trapdoor.

Harry prayed that he'd left it unlocked. He rocketed himself upwards and slammed into the door. To his immense relief, the door swung up and open, and Harry flew into his room. After a lap around it, he dove back down through the trapdoor and landed next to Minerva. He gestured up with his head. She shook her head no. He waved one of his talons at her, offering to carry her up. She shook her head more vigorously. Harry squawked indignantly and flew back up through the door. He looked around and his eyes landed on a particularly thick scarf laying on his bed. That gave him an idea. He grabbed the scarf, and flew back down to Minerva.

Once there, he gripped and un-gripped the scarf pointedly, showing her that she could grab onto the scarf and let him pull her up. She growled at him, but hesitantly sunk her claws into the scarf anyway. She nodded when she was ready.

Harry took off, slowly lifting Minerva off the ground. Minerva, for her part, seemed to be doing all she could not to make undignified noises. Finally, they made it through the trapdoor (after a few tries, because Harry had more difficulty fitting his two-meter wingspan through the door whilst going slowly). Harry deposited the scarf and Minerva carefully on the ground, and Minerva de-tangled herself.

Harry hopped over to the bookshelf and, with difficulty, pulled out the how-to guide for anamagi. Minerva joined him, and together they managed to get it open with their claws. They flipped to the table of contents, and found the section about "Changing Back" on page 689. They hurriedly flipped to it, tearing more than one page with their claws as they went.

The truth was that Harry hadn't read this chapter yet. He'd expected to have to wait several months before attempting to actually change into the forms, let alone changing back. He felt like an idiot, and a little miffed that he wasn't quite as magically omniscient as he thought he was. But really, who would have thought that changing back would be the hard part?

The two animals started skimming the chapter. It was really very straightforward.

"_As mentioned in the previous chapter, entitled 'Changing Into Animal Form,' once a witch or wizard has changed a part of their body to the animal and back, they will never forget how to do it. The process of learning to change back into a human is connected to the process of learning to change into the animal, and the two cannot be learned separately. To change into animal form, the prospective animagus must have completed the Animal Trance and have first-hand knowledge of what it feels like to occupy their animal of choice. To transform back, the animagus needs to have the knowledge of what it feels like to be human. Because animals do not have the emotions or cognitive abilities of humans, they cannot simulate the sensation of being human. This means that an animagus in complete animal form will not be able to summon the sensations of humanity and change back. This problem can be easily circumnavigated, however, by the process described in the previous chapter. To reiterate, the prospective animagus should transform pieces of them self at a time. In this way, he or she might learn what it feels like to transform and un-transform each part of his or her body (which he or she will not forget) without the risk of getting stuck in the animal form, unable to remember the sensations of humanity. The head, of course, should be the last to transform. The heart and the head should not be transformed at the same time on the first try..."_

Harry groaned, which, again, sounded like a balloon deflating. How could he have been so stupid? He couldn't use his powers because animals didn't use magic. Transforming back would have nothing to do with his powers. Minerva growled at him. Harry felt that her blame was unjust; she was the one who'd wanted to transform early.

He looked back down at the book. On the next page, there was a note.

_"In the case of unintentional premature entire transformations, the animagus should visit a healer (though very few healers know how to solve this problem), seek assistance from a powerful witch or wizard acquainted with the aura arts, or read up on his or her animal's preferred diet and migratory habits."_

Harry tried to swear, but squawked instead. Minerva's growl grew louder and she rounded on Harry who looked back at her apologetically. It made all of the sense in the world that he, Harry, was the only person Harry knew to be acquainted with the "aura arts."

He jabbed a talon at the first option: find a healer. Minerva shrugged and trotted off. She came back a moment later with a large roll of parchment and a quill in her mouth. She left and came back again with a pot of ink. Harry, meanwhile, unrolled the parchment and put things on it to lay it flat.

When Minerva came back, she tried dipping the quill into the ink with her mouth, and bringing it to the paper. She drew long lines along the paper that, unfortunately, had very little resemblance to the letters she was trying to make. Next, she tried pinning the quill between her two front paws while sitting on her haunches. After two strokes, the quill slid out of her grasp and she toppled over, her right paw landing in the pot of ink. She made to wipe off the ink on the parchment, but her claws had extended in her frustration, and, instead of a paw print, she drew a neat line from the claw on her first toe.

Harry crooned in appreciation, and Minerva meowed in surprise. She poised herself over the paper, and, after a look at Harry, tried writing with her claw. The progress was painfully slow.

"_Minerva"_

Harry rolled his eyes, but had to admit that it was legible.

Minerva moved a bit down the paper and started a new line.

_"Dear Healer,"_ she wrote.

It was going to take a long time. In the mean time, Harry flipped back and forth through the book, trying to find any clues that would help him get back to his human form, but found none. He took to hopping from one piece of furniture to another until Minerva turned and hissed at him. Then he settled himself on Fawkes's perch and looked out the window at the darkening night.

Finally, after what must have been at least an hour, Minerva meowed at him from the floor. The letter was done. Harry swooped down from the perch and read the letter. The words were neither neat nor consistent. They rather resembled the work of a seven-year-old, but were legible enough and correctly spelled.

_Dear Healer,_

_My friend Harry Crockett (the bird who delivered this) and I have accidentally completed our animagus transformations the first time we tried. We have found ourselves stuck because we did not do the transformation piece by piece the first time. According to our reference books, we should consult a healer or someone acquainted with the aura arts to try to change back. I am still at Hogwarts, as I am lacking transportation to your premises, but both of us would appreciate any assistance you may offer._

_Thank you._

_-Minerva McGonagall (Tabby Cat)_

Harry could see why it would have taken an hour to write. He could also see that it had taken Minerva a lot of word-smithing not to sound desperate and hopeless.

Together they ripped off the soiled pieces of parchment on the top of the scroll and the unused parchment on the bottom, and rolled up the letter. Harry grasped it in his talons and was almost to the window when Minerva meowed loudly again. Harry turned back around to see Minerva writing something on the parchment. He landed, careful not to squash the letter. He read what Minerva was writing.

"_Please don't leave_."

Harry looked at her questioningly. She hesitated.

"_It's dark_."

Harry wasn't sure what she meant by that. Minerva hesitated for a minute, and started writing again.

"_I don't want you to get lost," _she wrote.

He frowned, confused, but realized that it was probably a better idea to wait until morning. He'd just...thought Minerva would want to get changed back as soon as possible. He shrugged and flew back up to the perch.

Something caught his eye, shining on one of his shelves and he flew over to it. It was the watch he'd found in the vault-the future Albus's pocket watch. He flew over to it, grabbed it by its chain, and landed on his bed with it. After some fiddling, he opened it. To his dismay, he could not understand what the hands and planets around the edges meant. He'd been able to understand it as a human but...

He wondered what time it was. He flew down to Minerva and tapped the watch. She understood. He flew towards the trapdoor and Minerva followed him. She stopped and latched herself onto the scarf as she had before. Harry grasped the scarf in one clawed foot, and had the watch still dangling in the other as he lowered Minerva to the ground below the tower room. They left the scarf under his trapdoor and took off back towards the stairs.

Students flooded the halls, dressed up in their Halloween attire. Harry and Minerva's progress downstairs was slowed, and they reached the grand marble staircase as the last of the students were funneling down. As they reached the top of the stairs, however, they realized that they needn't have gone all the way down at all. The great clock began to chime...one...two...Minerva stopped and put her paws over her ears because the chimes were so loud. Harry perched beside her at the top of the stairs. Three...four...Harry gazed down the marble staircase into the Entry Hall as the last students in costume walked by them down the stairs and into the Great Hall. No one noticed Harry and Minerva-or nobody bothered them, anyway. The clock chimed five...six...The crowd of students was thinning. The last few scampered into the through the doors and the Entrance Hall was quiet except for the sound of the clock striking seven...and finally eight.

The front doors to the castle boomed open.

A man strode through the doors. His robes and cape swished behind him, blood-red with swirls of what looked like gold leaf. His long auburn hair was streaked with the same shining gold, and the mask he wore was plumed with red and gold feathers.

The doors swung shut behind him, and he swept across towards the Great Hall. Half way there, when he was in the middle of the Entry Hall, right beneath the marble staircase, he stopped. He turned and looked up the stairs. His stoic, masked gaze landed on Harry. He looked to Minerva and back to Harry again. He paused for a moment, eying the two animals, then he turned back towards the Great Hall and continued on his way into the party.

Harry and Minerva sat stock still for a beat after Albus disappeared. Then they looked at each other and bolted down the stairs after him. Harry shot through the doors right before they slammed shut, but Minerva was locked out. Harry didn't want to draw attention to himself by trying to open the doors, so he continued his flight into the room.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was completely different than the Entrance Hall, and completely different from its normal state. As Harry'd expected, the large house tables and the faculty table were missing. In the place of the faculty table was a stage on which a band was set up. Harry recognized two of the four musicians from earlier; their guitars were facing in opposite directions, and they were sharing a microphone. Another man was playing guitar, and the fourth was on drums. All four were gazing around in awe at the Great Hall, which was extra spectacular that night even to wizards. Besides the usual live bats and floating jack-o-lanterns, there was a sizable dance floor in front of the stage, and around the edge of the stage were an assortment of walking skeletons serving drinks.

The room was fairly dark and crowded with people, so Harry had trouble spotting Albus right away. Some students had large and unwieldy costumes (Harry thought he saw someone dressed up like the Fat Lady, frame and all), and others were taking the opportunity to dress as scantily as possible.

The whole room was packed, including the dance floor. Harry had trouble flying because of all of the jack-o-lanterns, so he landed on a bracket for a torch along the wall farthest from the door. From there, he surveyed the room. Albus seemed to have vanished. How hard could it be to spot someone wearing red and gold...? He thought about going back up to his room to get the letter to show Albus. He had the feeling that flapping his wings in Albus's face wasn't going to get him anywhere. He took off and flew low across the room back to the door, but the door was shut. He'd have to wait until someone came or went. He perched on a torch bracket near the door and continued his surveillance of the room.

His double take was so violent when he finally caught sight of Albus that he almost fell off his perch. He didn't know how he hadn't spotted him before, but Albus was standing just to the right of the bracket Harry was on. The gold on his robes and feathers, and in his hair glittered even though there was no direct light on him.

Harry suddenly felt very foolish. There he was, stuck as a bird, unable to do magic, and it was all his fault. On top of that, he hadn't gotten a very good start on fixing the crisis either. He hadn't even remembered that Albus was "acquainted with the aura arts." And there was Albus, looking like the proudest and most glorious of phoenixes...

The letter felt foolish too, Harry thought. How could he have thought that showing Albus the letter would be a good idea? It made Harry look like the idiot he'd been. Besides, how could he be sure that Albus wasn't still furious at him? He'd tried not to think about it, but Albus had left very angry about something, and Harry'd never figured out what.

Someone opened the door. Harry could have left the Great Hall to get the letter, or to get away from Albus, but he didn't. He saw Minerva slink into the room as the door was shutting, but she didn't see Albus or Harry. She trotted around the edge of the room in the other direction.

Harry had to do something, or Minerva would be angry with him for wasting time. For lack of any better ideas, he called out. His piercing cry was audible over the electric guitars and four part harmony of the muggle band, but only Albus turned to look. He spotted Harry immediately and walked calmly under the bracket to look up at him.

"A red kite," he mused quietly. "How did you get in here?" he asked rhetorically.

Harry crooned again in response, trying to show that it was him. Anything.

"I'm going to take you back outside before one of the students sends a curse at you for sport," said Albus. "Come along." He held out his arm.

Harry called out again, this time a little frustrated. If he'd been a little less upset, he might have been planning to make fun of Albus for having a conversation with a mute animal, but he was getting more upset by the second.

Albus contemplated Harry a moment through his mask. "That was not a suggestion," he said. "Despite my costume, this is a place for people, not for birds."

Harry was exasperated, but had no choice but to hop down to Albus's arm, careful not to pierce it with his talons.

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?" asked Albus. He opened the door out of the Great Hall with one hand, and held Harry with the other arm. They crossed the Entrance Hall, and Harry became more and more distraught. His feathers ruffled and unruffled as he breathed his exasperation.

"Are you uncomfortable? Perhaps my shoulder," said Albus. With impressive strength, as Harry was no small bird, Albus lifted Harry to his shoulder.

They exited the castle. Harry made a distressed noise.

"It is very loud, isn't it? I do like that band. I think they have some potential. I had a friend who would know if they'll ever make it anywhere, but I'm afraid I may have lost him, in more than one sense of the word..."

Harry froze. Surely that referred to him. He willed Albus to continue talking about him, but he did not. In fact, he stopped walking, too. They were on the lawn, half way between the castle and the forbidden forest. Albus reached up and stroked Harry's feathered head with a curled finger. "And now, my bird friend, it is time to part. May your hunting be profitable, and may you keep your friends close."

Harry shifted his talons, hesitant to leave.

"Would it be easier for you to take off from my arm?" asked Albus. Were Harry's emotions and body human, he would be fighting the lump in his throat and the mist in his eyes. Albus lifted Harry from his shoulder to his arm, but then stopped, fiddling with something by Harry's talons. He was quiet for a moment.

Harry looked down and saw that Albus had found the pocket watch dangling from Harry's foot. He helped Albus detach it. Once it was free, Albus brought it under his gaze. He popped it open in the hand not holding Harry, and the twelve clock hands and planets were clear and visible in the darkness. Albus frowned, looking at the watch. He looked up at Harry, back down to the watch, and back up to Harry for what seemed like an age. Harry didn't breathe as Albus's eyes searched his.

"Harry?" whispered Albus.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please!**


	37. Halloween

**A/N: Hello! Look! A chapter! This took a long time because I didn't leave a cliff hanger on the last chapter...I write faster when I leave myself a cliff. Anyway, sorry that took so long. Thanks for all the reivews. I loved them! Keep it up!**

**This chapter was beta'd by _Thea_ and _Face of Boe's Child_ (a reference I now get...). **

**And...By the way, the mysterious rainforest I was in was in Costa Rica. Good job, Nessi. You win. (Moscow? How could I have been in Moscow?). Anyway, enjoy the chapter. Please review!**

_Last chapter: _

_"Come along." Albus held out his arm. "That was not a suggestion," he said. "Despite my costume, this is a place for people, not for birds."_

_They exited the castle. Harry made a distressed noise._

_"And now, my bird friend, it is time to part. May your hunting be profitable, and may you keep your friends close."_

_Harry shifted his talons, hesitant to leave. _

_Harry looked down and saw that Albus had found the pocket watch dangling from Harry's foot. Albus brought it under his gaze. He looked up at Harry, back down to the watch, and back up to Harry for what seemed like an age. Harry didn't breathe as Albus's eyes searched his. _

_"Harry?" whispered Albus. _

Chapter 37

Harry let out a very un bird-like sigh of relief. Everything was going to be alright. Albus turned and walked back towards the castle, his eyes still on Harry.

"You...are stuck," he guessed softly. Harry nodded.

They entered the building, and Harry gestured to go upstairs. With small motions and shifts in his talons' grip, he led Albus up to his tower. Only when they got there did he let go of Albus's arm and fly up through the open trapdoor. Albus soon followed him, drifting upward on a cloud of magic. Harry landed next to the book he and Minerva had nearly torn to shreds. Albus knelt beside him and picked it up off the floor. He skimmed the open page briefly before looking back at Harry.

"You need human sensations from someone acquainted with the aura arts." He took a breath. "Will this do?" he asked.

Suddenly, Harry felt fingers, skin, the twitch of a nose, the feel of wind whistling through ears, legs, arms, no wings. He grabbed onto the feelings and didn't let go. He dragged himself from his feathered existence, his claws, his beak, and into the flesh and reasoning and emotions of humanity. Before he knew it, it was his own lungs bringing him air, his Adams' apple bobbing up and down. His broad chest scratched against the rug on the floor, and a slight chill rippled down his un-feathered skin.

He stood up on his own two legs and grinned at Albus, flashing his human teeth. Albus's eyes grew huge. All at once, Albus lunged to cast a spell at Harry with his wand, and Harry wildly gestured a wandless spell on himself with both of his arms. The result was that Harry was bombarded with enough clothes to cover a Hogwarts field trip to Antarctica. He toppled to the floor, unable to see anything until Albus found him in the pile and helped him up.

"Welcome back, Harry."

"Welcome back, Albus."

"How on earth did that happen?"

"Why did you hire a muggle band from Liverpool? Minerva and I have been off our heads— Minerva!"

They exchanged a quick look and dashed to the trapdoor, hopped down, and tore off down the corridor like schoolboys from an angry teacher. They composed themselves briefly before pushing open the doors of the Great Hall. They spotted Minerva quickly. She was skulking under the punch table, trying not to get squashed by the partying students. Harry hurried over to her through the crowd and tried to pick her up, but she hissed and swiped at him with a paw.

"Come on," he said over the music of the muggle band. "I can change you back. We should go somewhere private, though."

She gave him a stern look before catching sight of Albus. A look of unmistakable horror crossed onto her feline features.

"Shall we?" Albus asked her, smiling lightly.

Minerva paused for a moment before slinking towards the door. Harry and Albus followed. She led them to a spacious wardrobe and waited outside for one of them to open it. Apparently it had occurred to her, unlike Harry, that she would not be wearing clothes when she transformed back. Albus opened the door of the wardrobe for her and closed it gently behind her.

"Would you rather Albus do it or me?" asked Harry.

They heard a violent hiss.

"I, then," said Albus. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Harry convinced himself he heard a slight whoosh of air, and then-

"Albus, I'm so sorry. I was completely irresponsible and I will understand if you deem it necessary to remove me—and Crockett, that is, from our posts and I will..."

Harry looked up at Albus and saw that he was laughing silently. Harry grinned.

"...And if you do decide to let me—I mean us—keep our posts, I will, of course, take on as many extra duties as...and well, I understand if this has to go to the Ministry-"

"Minerva," Albus interrupted. Harry was impressed at how he managed to keep his mirth out of his voice.

"...And I only hope that—Yes, Albus?"

"Why don't you put on some clothes, and then we can discuss this properly."

"I...Yes, Albus." She paused, and then continued sheepishly, "Albus?"

"Yes, Minerva."

"I seem to have left my wand in Crockett's room."

"Ah," said Albus quietly. Harry was horrified to watch Albus's smile fade to be replaced with weary disappointment. "I never thought I'd see the day when I found two of my most esteemed staff running around the grounds as animals. I confess, I am beyond shocked." Harry felt his face grow uncomfortably hot. "I can understand and forgive your quest for knowledge and magical betterment, but leaving your wands about, and leaving yourselves defenseless..." he took a breath, and Harry felt his throat tightening in shame, and he heard Minerva sniffed wetly inside the wardrobe. "I'm afraid this means you will have to forfeit your rights to pick your own Halloween costumes."

Harry heard Minerva sob briefly. He saw his future at Hogwarts vanish, and he looked at Albus and did a double take-

"Sorry, our Halloween costumes?"

Albus nodded.

They were silent for a moment before there was an alarming pounding from the inside of the wardrobe, accompanied by, "ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, you son of an orangutan's arse! "

Albus simply flicked his wand at the door of the wardrobe and it swung open. Minerva shrieked and tried to cover herself, but she was already fully clothed in-

"You Halloween _sadist_!" she hollered hoarsely. All but her face was completely encased in a thickly furred cat suit. The costume did not, in any way, resemble the classic Halloween cat suit with the tight black spandex and cute ear-headband. This suit made her resemble a giant, extra furry version of Crookshanks. The shape was not flattering; it made her look more like a teddy bear than a cat. The fur, on the other hand, was realistic and Harry suspected that it would have been quite silky if he'd chosen to run his hands through it. He did not run his hands through it, for fear that Minerva might have had claws.

"Please change it, Albus?" He smiled and shook his head. "Harry?" she pleaded.

"Oh! Harry, I forgot." Albus flicked his wand at Harry and Harry suddenly felt heavier. He looked down at himself to see that he wore a costume that made him look like a red version of Big Bird.

He glared at Albus. "You know that won't work on me."

"Won't it?"

Harry snapped his fingers to change the costume into something more dignified, but nothing happened.

Albus smiled serenely. "I thought so. I think part of you likes being a big red bird." Harry heard Fawkes' amusement and knew that Fawkes was keeping him from using his magic.

_One of these days, that's going to get us into trouble, _thought Harry.

Albus put a hand on each Harry and Minerva's backs, and with remarkable strength, he pushed them towards the doors to the Great Hall. "I think it's time to re-join the party."

"Please don't, Albus. Please. My students are in there," whispered Minerva hoarsely.

"And a lovely muggle band from Liverpool, who would love to know why you didn't greet them. Here, have a drink." He conjured a glass for each of them. They floated in the air and filled with amber liquid. They each caught theirs.

"To friendship," said Albus. Minerva had already downed her drink. Harry and Albus clinked their glasses and followed suit.

"Friendship, indeed," muttered Minerva. She wrenched open the door to the Great Hall and was almost through it before she turned around. She paused and glared a little. "It's good to have you back, Albus." She disappeared through the door.

"I knew she'd come 'round," smiled Albus.

"I think your fame has gone to your head," said Harry.

"Goodness, no. I've always been like this." His eyes twinkled.

"And always will be. So, tell me about your trip," said Harry, pulling the door open again. Albus followed him into the Great Hall, which seemed to have gotten even louder since they left. There were now girls clustered in front of the stage squealing at each other in delight every time one of the musicians bit his lip or made a particularly attractive dance move.

"I went to a lot of different places all over the world, and each and every one of them was filled with pompous old witches and wizards like me." They picked a spot on the wall towards the back of the hall and "supervised."

"Pompous is the wrong word, Albus. You are more...eccentric. And you don't _look _old."

"Thank you, Harry, but I assure you, the company I was holding was distinctly pompous and old. Speaking of pompous and old, Nicolas was with me for most of the time. He is both a blessing and a curse, of course. He's a very entertaining man, but is unsympathetic with the tedium of a scholarly tour, being one in and of himself." Harry laughed. "So I explained our discoveries all over the world, and answered some questions, and didn't answer others, and had my photograph taken far too many times to count. I'm quite pleased to be home."

"Are you? That's nice," said Harry. He was a little bitter about the month he'd spent out of touch with Albus, worried that he'd said something to merit the absolute end of their friendship— and now Albus was back, and whatever had bothered him a month before didn't seem to be bothering him anymore. Harry had half a mind to confront him about it.

"How has everything been here?" Albus asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "Busy," he said. "Yeah, Minerva and I have been quite busy with our jobs...and the animagus thing. Minerva's been especially busy...Didn't know when you'd be back..."

Albus shifted uncomfortably. "I'm afraid I may have been rather brief with her before I left," he said quietly.

"Brief," said Harry, wondering if "brief" was the same word Albus would use to describe his and Harry's last meeting.

Their conversation halted. Harry knew that the smalltalk was over and that Albus was going to bring up whatever had made him so angry.

"Would you mind stepping in here with me for a moment, Harry? It's a little loud." He gestured to the door that led to an antechamber off the Great Hall. Harry followed him, and the door shut behind them, muffling the music. They adjusted to the quiet for a moment.

That's when Harry realized he wanted his friend back. His bitterness at being shouted at and then abandoned for over a month with no explanation wasn't important.

They both started talking at the same time.

"Albus, listen, I—"

"Harry, I owe you—"

"—don't know what happened but—"

"—an explanation for my—"

"—I hope that I can help make whatever I did better—"

"—outburst. I overreacted, and I want to—"

"—and I want you to have this watch."

Albus fell silent as Harry pulled out the watch he'd been carrying earlier and dangled it in front of him by its chain. Albus looked at it for a moment, caught off guard, and then back at Harry.

"A watch?" he asked weakly.

"Er...this watch," said Harry self consciously.

To Harry's surprise and embarrassment, Albus turned red, and when he spoke, he was flustered. "Goodness, Harry. Why...why are you giving me...why are you giving me a watch?"

"Because it was my fault your other one broke...and I guessed you needed a new one...and this one was...well, it's for you," he said a bit defensively. He was worried Albus would keep asking questions and he'd somehow accidentally reveal something about the vault where he found the watch or that he already knew Albus would wear it forever...

Albus didn't look like he was going to ask more questions, though. His eyes had gone quite large and it looked like he was having trouble swallowing.

"Albus?"

He snapped out of it. "Harry, are you sure this is for me? I-"

"Albus. It's just a watch. It tells the time— or at least I think it does. I have a feeling this one does other little things too— but it's a watch. You said you couldn't fix the other one, so here's a new one. I...didn't mean to offend you. If you don't want it...I'll...I'll..."

He didn't know what he'd do if Albus didn't want it. It was Albus's watch, after all.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. I'm being terribly rude. You didn't offend me. It's a beautiful watch. Thank you." He took it from Harry's offering hands. "I'll be happy to carry it...I just didn't expect...well...I didn't know you...it was that...you caught me by...so soon...Ah." He paused and listened for a moment. "The band's stopped playing. That means it's time for my announcement. I think you'll like this."

He opened the door back out into Great Hall for Harry and followed him out. He then went up on stage leaving Harry by the dance floor feeling like he was missing some piece of the puzzle. He'd never seen someone get so flustered over a pocket watch...or...any type of watch.

"Good evening students!" said Albus over the magically powered microphone the musicians had abandoned. "I hope you're all having a lovely evening!" The students cheered. "Why don't you give a round of applause for our band here, all the way from Liverpool, the—"

Minerva tapped Harry on the shoulder. "What's he doing?" she asked. The entire great hall erupted in piercing girlish screams, cheering for the musicians at Albus's request. Harry and Minerva quickly stuffed their fingers in their ears to block out the unearthly shriek.

"Dono," mouthed Harry.

"It's about time to send the first, second, and third years to bed," said Minerva when the screaming had died down. "Maybe that's what he's doing."

"Maybe, but he said something about an announcement..."

Albus continued over the mic. "I'm sorry to say that any first, second, or third years are soon to retire for the evening..."

Some of the crowd aww'd in disappointment.

"...but not before an important announcement. At the end of this term, before the winter holidays, Hogwarts will be holding an all school dueling tournament."

The hall was silent for a second before the students erupted into mixed cheers and loud conversation. Albus waved them into silence again.

"This will be a chance for you to show the magic you've been learning, and to learn from your fellow students in a competitive but save environment. Anyone is welcome to participate. There will, also, be a faculty bracket for any professors wishing to enter." His eyes met Harry's for a split second, and Harry felt his heart leap in excitement.

"This tournament is, of course, strictly optional, but you should consider it a way to bond with your classmates and progress in your classes. I know at least one subject in which you would benefit from your participation. There will also be a prize for the winners in each year, and a grand prize for the overall winner of the students. The faculty will be dueling for bragging rights."

The students laughed.

"He's saying all this in front of the muggles? What is he thinking?" asked Minerva.

Harry grimaced. "I...have no idea. I rarely do."

"Sign up sheets for the brackets will be posted in your common rooms by tomorrow evening. In the mean time, goodnight first, second, and third years."

This was Harry and Minerva's cue to start shooing the younger students from the room and to make sure none of them stayed or sneaked back in. They thought all of the students were out, until Harry spotted a pair of identical, rather solid ghosts idling in a corner. They were significantly taller than the Prewett twins, but the style was unmistakably theirs. Harry levitated the costumed twins out the door with a flourishing wave of his hands some wandless magic (which seemed to have returned to him for this purpose).

He looked back up to the stage to signal Albus that all the younger students were out and, instead, met four pairs of eyes popping out of their sockets. Apparently the musicians had either spotted his magic or were staring at him because of his Big Bird costume. He'd have put his wager on the first.

Albus was standing behind the musicians smiling serenely. Harry darted up to the stage and elbowed past the musicians.

"Albus...really. Why...what..." he gestured not-so-subtly at the four young men who were still staring at him.

"Oh, don't worry about them. Right boys?" Albus asked the band. "I don't think they mind."

"But...the Statute of Secrecy..."

"Ah, Harry...Music is a magic beyond all we do here."

"It's the 'all we do here' that I'm worried about..."

"There's nothing like a little magic for inspiration, Harry. I think they'll benefit from this little magical mystery tour."

Harry looked from the youthful foursome, three of them in particular, and looked back at Albus.

"Dear lord, Albus...What am I going to do with you?"

"I suggest you start by recounting exactly how you managed to get stuck as a Red Kite on Halloween," he smiled, and signaled for the band to resume their music.

**Next chapter: Harry works on juggling his projects: the vault, the phoenix animagus, and the tournament, but he has to keep the vault secret from Albus, and the phoenix animagus secret from Minerva lest horrible things happen! **

**A/N: Please review!**


	38. Bump in the Night

**A/N: This ended up being almost a real chapter. Woot. This was beta'd by the fantastic Toki Mirage. Read her fics. They're great. Thanks, Mirage. Also, real A/N at the end. **

Something creaked, and Albus's eyes flew open. His glasses were off, and the quarter moon outside did nothing to help him see. His tower was pitch dark, but Albus could hear that something was moving in the room next to his bedroom. He quieted his breathing and listened.

There was no sound for a moment, but then Albus heard the definite sound of a door opening very near. Someone or something was in the next room. Albus frowned in the dark. The castle hadn't alerted him to an intruder, nor had any of his own personal alarms gone off. House elves weren't that loud, and besides, the house elves were all downstairs, busy cleaning up after the Halloween party.

Albus had offered rooms to the muggle band to stay the night because the party ended very late, but he was certain that they were really just muggles and wouldn't be able to get into his rooms.

—Or maybe that's why they hadn't tripped the alarms! Albus thought about how he'd coded them...Had he done it by magical signature? Would muggles have even registered?

Yes. They would have. Albus wouldn't underestimate muggles. Not after...

He softly swung out of bed, forgoing his slippers to maintain his silence. He moved to the door gracefully, despite the darkness, and listened. There was no sound. Albus wondered for a moment if he'd imagined the noise, but then the confidence he had in his senses and mind kicked in and he redoubled his listening efforts. He still heard nothing, and pressed his ear harder against the door.

Something whooshed quietly behind him and he spun around. There was nothing there, but he dashed back to his bedside table to grab his wand.

The wand was gone.

Then he noticed the slight draft coming through the open window. The window had definitely not been open before.

But where was his wand? Besides leaving him relatively defenseless, losing the elder wand could mean terrible things. Who would have— could have taken it? Had he even put the wand on his bedside table in the first place? He usually did, but maybe he'd left it in his office after the hour he'd sat there, tracing his fingers around the face of his new watch. Maybe he'd put both the watch and the wand in a drawer before going to bed.

The whereabouts of the Elder Wand was now more important than his own safety, so Albus decided to go find it. He knew it was possible that someone had come in through his window and taken it, but he also knew the wand wouldn't work properly for anyone who hadn't actually disarmed him or killed him. If whoever had broken in had done it expressly to steal the wand, it was possible that he or she (or they) knew about the wandlore behind the Elder Wand. If they knew enough about the wand, they would be appearing shortly to disarm or kill him. It was also possible that they didn't know about the wand, and that they'd just leave or try to cast spells on him with his own wand, which wouldn't work. Probably. Of course, when he thought about it, Harry'd managed well enough at the Black's house...But then again, that was Harry.

The one of these possibilities that Albus decided to investigate was that the wand was sitting in his desk drawer, un-bothered. Going to look was the most useful course of action, favored over staring out the window, sounding the alarm, or trying to find someone who could lend him another wand in the middle of the night.

He opened the door slowly and silently peered into his living room.

The headmaster's tower was made up of two and a half floors. The large, oval-shaped office was on the first floor, at the top of the escalator. Above all of the paintings of old headmasters was a balcony that ran all the way around the room. Against the wall around the balcony were bookshelves. The balcony served as a sort of half floor, open to the first floor. Above the balcony, accessible by a tight spiral staircase, was where the headmaster lived. On that floor was a small living room, a dining room, a bedroom, and bathroom.

To get to his desk, Albus had to exit his bedroom, cross the living room (which housed his handsome pajama wardrobe, slightly out of place, but only Nicolas, Harry and Minerva knew that was what it was for), go down two spiral staircases, and cross the large, slightly cluttered oval office. In the dark.

He'd forgotten his glasses.

He decided that speed was more important than visibility, so he crept across the living room towards the spiral staircase.

When he was half way across the room, his bedroom door slammed shut. He whirled around, but couldn't see anything but vague, stationary shapes in the darkness. Nothing moved, so he darted to the rest of the way to the spiral staircase. He flew down the flight to the balcony, and, for a split second, considered looking out over the office below. He decided against it and continued down the second flight of stairs.

He descended on his desk, his hands finding the right drawer immediately. He quickly patted the bottom of the drawer, finding some of his more important artifacts such as the watch Harry'd given him only a few hours earlier. The wand was not there.

His wand was gone.

He narrowed down the scenario. It was not the band, it was not the house elves, and he was not imagining things. None of those conclusions were good.

Albus summed up his assets. He had a sorting hat, a mysterious and socially charged pocket watch, a cabinet full of various potions, a lot of quills, a letter opener, and—and some wandless magic.

During the month Albus was away, he'd practiced doing magic without his wand. He'd worked on some basic charms, and had even gotten quite good at summoning things to himself from around his hotel room. With a click of his fingers, he could have his toothbrush whizzing to him from the bathroom, or with a clap of his hands he could make the bed. The more he practiced, the harder the magic he could do, but one thing stumped him. He could never turn lights on or off. He could conjure a very warm fire, but it never seemed to cast any light. He could even conjure a torch, but it would never switch on. Similarly, he couldn't put out lamps or torches. He couldn't do anything to magnify existing light, nor could he do anything to dampen it. It was such a strange phenomenon that he almost wrote to Harry three times. Almost.

With the exception of the light problem, he'd been quite pleased with his progress, and on numerous occasions would find himself picturing the moment he would return and proudly show Harry his new skills. Then he would remember the conditions of their parting, and his stomach would roil with guilt for yelling at Harry. And then he would remember why he'd yelled, because _his_ watch was broken, and he would feel a cruel fist clench his heart. And then he'd remember the memory conversation with himself..."_perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one..._"

And then Albus would puzzle for long hours alone in his hotel room trying to piece it all together...Did the "_G.G._" on the broken watch stand for "Gellert Grindelwald"or "Greater Good"? The significance of the two would be completely different. And what did he mean, "take the time from a new watch"? Was he telling himself to get over the past in a roundabout way, or was he hinting at something more?

Then he'd ponder how and when he'd get so insufferably enigmatic, or if he was already like that.

But now he was in his office with partial answers to some of his pondering, but no wand and no glasses. He could do some easy magic without his wand, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't turn lights on or off. He had a letter opener, and he had a lot of quills, and he had some ink, and he had the feeling he was being watched.

"I know you're there," he said softly. He lived up to his Gryffindor title and showed no fear. "If you wanted me dead, you'd have killed me by now. Why don't you come down and we'll talk."

His voice didn't shake at all, but his mind was racing. Who could it be? Who would break into his quarters to get his wand? His first thought was Gellert, but Gellert was in jail. Could he have broken out? If he could have broken out, he might have been able to break into Hogwarts. The thought sickened Albus, but didn't slow down his train of thought.

Could it have been Tom Riddle? Tom Riddle might have been powerful enough, and it was possible that he could have tampered with the alarms when he'd last visited. Albus doubted it. He knew Harry kept an eye on Tom Riddle and knew his activities fairly well. Harry would have warned Albus—unless Harry didn't know about it. Also, Harry couldn't possibly know the significance of the Elder Wand. Maybe he'd known about someone trying to steal it and didn't think it was important enough to mention. Either way, thought Albus remembering some of Harry's words, he knew he was going to live through the night.

"You won't kill me tonight," Albus said, warmth of relief flowing into his tensed limbs.

Something swished behind him and he spun around.

The room was silent for a moment, and Albus realized that dramatic spinning was hardly the way to convey the cool exterior he was striving for. He let out a controlled sigh.

"Really. I would like my wand back before I go back to bed." His voice didn't shake, but he was having trouble keeping his knees still, not that anyone could have seen them in the dark under his voluminous pajamas.

Something swished again, but Albus kept himself from turning. He mentally summoned his wandless magic to him...

A hand came across his mouth, and an arm wrapped around his waist. A body pressed into his back, and a mouth against his ear.

"_How's this for talking?_" whispered the mouth, brushing Albus's ear with every syllable. "_You won't die tonight, Albus Dumbledore_,_ but I daresay you'll be back in bed before you get your wand._"

Just as Albus clicked his fingers to send a nearby vase flying at his captor's head, he felt the sensation of apparition and then landed with his back pressed against what was unmistakably the covers of his bed. No one else had a thread count that high (except maybe Harry). The presence of his captor had moved from his back to his front, and was now pressing him down into the bed. He struggled, but found he was bound in a spread-eagle position by his wrists and ankles.

"Is this really—"

The hand from before came across his mouth again, stopping his speech.

"_Don't speak_," said the whisperer.

Albus inhaled through his nose, glaring up at the dark—

He froze. That smell...The smell of the hand on his face...the oppressive darkness... the whisper...It triggered his memory...A mysterious dream from months past...the most amazing dream...

His thoughts were interrupted by the unrecognizable but naggingly familiar whisper again.

"_I have one last thing to say to you, Albus Dumbledore..._"

Albus's breath quickened.

"_Hell hath no fury..."_

The mouth grew closer.

"_...__like teachers forced into costume." _

The weight was suddenly gone, and the lights clicked on. Albus was nearly blinded because his eyes had almost adjusted to the dark, but he could hear a pair of voices laughing roarously and the distinct smack of a high five.

"Seriously, Albus. Never do that again," said Minerva, once her laughter had subsided.

"I still think this was a bit much, Minerva. Albus, I want you to know you can dress me up as whatever you want. This was her idea."

"You pulled it off, Crockett," said Minerva with a laugh in her voice.

"Yeah, well...the wand thing was a bit much."

"_That _was your idea. You said it would never work if he had his wand."

"That was after you blackmailed me into—"

"It _what way_ did I blackmail you? You seemed perfectly happy to come up here and tie—"

"_That _was your idea. I would have been perfectly happy just swishing about a bit and maybe leaving some cryptic notes. I like a good cryptic note."

"Just like you. Swishing about. Honestly."

"And what's that supposed to mean? How is swishing about just like me? Did you mean— I'll never tell you anything about myself ever again, Minerva."

Albus finally cleared his throat loud enough to be audible over Harry and Minerva's argument and they fell silent.

"You know," he said, "a prank works better when you don't argue in front of your...victim."

"I think it worked well enough," said Minerva, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think, Crockett?"

Harry nodded. "Judging by the light shake in his knees, the elevated speed of his breathing, and that bit of pink on his ears, I think he's made up just fine for two bad costumes and swanning off for a month without any letters."

"Ah," said Albus. "I thought my assistance earlier would have sufficed."

Harry and Minerva looked at each other for a moment before looking back at Albus.

"Nah," they said in unison.

"Your wand's back on your bedside table," said Harry. "I was a little surprised you didn't have a spare...But, hey—what was with the vase? Nice work. Who'd you learn that from?"

"You," said Albus.

"What vase?" asked Minerva.

"Oh, just something I taught him," grinned Harry smugly. "Well, I think we've done our jobs. Why don't we let the headmaster get back to sleep. What do you say, Minerva?"

"Jolly good, Crockett."

Albus smiled. "Would one of you be kind enough to untie these, please?"

Harry and Minerva glanced at each other for a moment. "Nah!"

Harry grasped Minerva's hand and the pair of them vanished.

**A/N: That...started out as a little joke and turned into a real chapter. Please review!**

**Coming soon: Harry works on juggling his projects: the vault, the phoenix animagus, and the tournament, but he has to keep the vault secret from Albus, and the phoenix animagus secret from Minerva lest horrible things happen! **


	39. Secret Projects

**A/N: Yay. I'm updating quickly. So, this was beta'd by my grandmother. I'm staying at my grandparents house, and my FIVE MALE COUSINS (who are 5., 1.5, 1.5, 1.5, and 4 years old, respectively) have been running about while I wrote this chapter. It's madness. So. If you find anything that looks like "lkhwoweoth9397459]]]]" in this chapter, I'm very sorry. **

**Please review!**

Harry began dividing his time between three projects: the tournament, the vault, and changing his animagus form to a phoenix.

On weeknights, Harry usually found himself tutoring and giving extra lessons to his defense against the dark arts students in preparation for the dueling tournament. He had a very steady crowd of students worried about getting crushed in the upcoming tournament, students who really wanted to win, and students who just enjoyed his class. The difference between the tutoring sessions and his normal classes was that he didn't assign homework, and could rarely plan ahead because sometimes he was working with a group, and sometimes he worked one-on-one, depending on the night. Alastor Moody always managed to find him on nights with no other students, but the Prewett twins usually showed up in a group: all the better to cause chaos. The out-of-class lessons were a lot more free-form than his class periods and often reminded him of DA meetings.

Albus frequently showed up to help Harry when the group meetings got huge. Some nights, they would split the group up. Albus would take the students who needed to learn and practice new magic, and Harry would take the students who needed to practice their dueling technique and reflexes. Some nights, they would all go out on the lawns, split the group into two teams, and have a dueling war. The students would often request that Harry and Albus duel, but they always refused; they never talked about it, but Harry and Albus both wanted to save their second face-off for the faculty tournament—ideally the championship.

On free weekend days, Harry often took Minerva to go visit his vault. After a week of having to trek all the way to Gringotts and dealing with Goblins, Harry created his own set of vanishing cabinets that would take him to and from the vault. He found that he could only get there, though, when he had his cloak on.

Harry wanted to go through the catalogs of the contents of the vault, and the diaries and accounts of his ancestors. He brought Minerva along because of the sheer volume of the contents of the vault and her enthusiasm. Even if he'd wanted to sift through it all by himself, Minerva would have made him take her along.

They spent long afternoons going through the letters in the desk drawers. Minerva wanted to make a master list of all of the objects in the vault, and Harry wanted to piece together a tree of his ancestors in chronological order. They spent most of their time in the huge room with the library and artifacts. A blank space of wall appeared there, and they posted a huge piece of paper over it. They turned the piece of paper into a time line, putting in each descendant where he inherited the cloak and died with a colored line marking their lifespan. They also put in some of the most important artifacts with a colored line between when they were deposited and withdrawn. In some cases, objects disappeared and reappeared —it was a very old vault, after all.

Though Harry specifically asked her not to, Minerva also made a graph of how much money was in the vault over time. Harry found it one afternoon a week or two after she'd finished. He'd spent about five minutes yelling at her, telling her she'd violated his privacy and threatened not to let her come back. She listened patiently, and when he was done she told him, "you just have no idea what to do with it all. Don't worry, Crockett, I won't treat you differently because you're rich. You're still an almighty ponce," and laughed to his face. He'd had a hard time staying angry with her.

Though he enjoyed exploring his vault, Harry couldn't spend every day of every weekend at Gringotts. Minerva was busy sometimes, and though Harry didn't mind hanging out in the vault alone, he could only spend so much time there without attracting the suspicion of Albus. As it was, Harry frequently had to tell Albus that he was working on his animagus project while he was actually going to the vault with Minerva or by himself.

What spare time Harry had after his job, his tutoring, and the vault he spent working on changing his animagus form. He'd told Albus that he was trying to change into a phoenix, but he didn't tell Minerva. Harry wasn't going to tell Minerva. The morning after Halloween, a Friday with no classes, Minerva had marched Harry down to the Ministry of Magic to register their animagi forms. Harry had no interest in registering his phoenix form, if he ever achieved it, and so he resolved not to tell Minerva lest she tattle on him to the ministry. Albus, Harry knew, would be more sympathetic —and he was. Albus was fascinated. He helped Harry do research and offered to let Harry work in his office so that he could help immediately if something went wrong. Harry agreed. He wasn't interested in spending another evening stuck as an animal, or something equally traumatic.

When Harry was working on changing his form, he told Minerva that he was going to the vault by himself. Minerva was busy enough not to ask too many questions, so the vault alibi worked pretty well on her. Even when she was paying attention, though, he could rearrange the vault to look like he'd been working while she was gone. He had a bit of a harder time on Albus. Once, he accidentally left an animagus book in Albus's office, and then came back and said he'd been reading it while he was actually in the vault. He had to think quickly.

"I've got another copy. I duplicated it and left that copy because I thought you were reading it," he lied, trying to look nonchalant.

"Oh, how very thoughtful of you, Harry," smiled Albus. "Would you like some tea? Do you happen to have any of those lemon drops on you?"

Harry smiled in relief and conjured a few lemon drops for Albus.

"I did read some of it since we worked together last, actually," said Albus. "I wondered what you thought of this passage...?" He pointed to the open book, but made no motion to hand it to Harry across the desk. Harry walked around the desk and looked over Albus's shoulder at the passage in question. Harry felt something nudge the back of his knees and he turned to see a chair that was definitely not there before. Albus hadn't lifted his wand.

Harry cleared his throat as he sat. "Would you rather I compliment you on that trick, or take it in silent awe?"

"Comment, by all means," replied Albus, glancing at Harry sideways with a sly smile.

"In that case, I'm impressed that you can conjure such complicated objects," said Harry. "You've only been practicing for two months, right?"

"Ah," said Albus. "You give me to much credit. I merely summoned it from behind you. I can, however, conjure...ah..." He clicked his fingers and a candle appeared in front of them.

"Nice," said Harry. He moved closer and ran his hand over the candle. When he took his hand away, the candle was lit. The light flickered off the polished surface of the desk. Albus made the same motion, but the candle remained lit. He frowned. He focused intently on the candle, and snapped his fingers. The candle remained lit. Harry looked at him questioningly.

"I haven't been able to do light," said Albus with a puzzled smile. He blew out the candle.

"Light?" asked Harry.

"Light. See, when I..." He snapped his fingers and the candle lit. "Look. It doesn't cast any light." The candle's light had flickered off the desk when Harry'd lit it, but there was no flicker for Albus's flame. The flame cast no light.

"But...That doesn't make sense. I can see the flame," said Harry. "That's...not how light works."

"I seem to have broken physics."

Harry blew out the candle and lit it again. The light flickered on the desktop.

"Try putting it out again," said Harry.

Albus clicked his fingers, but nothing happened.

"Try...try focusing on making the flame go out. If you're trying to do '_nox_' or something, don't. Do something specifically to put out fire."

Albus snapped his fingers again, and the flame went out. But even as a thin stream of smoke rose from the black, unlit wick, light still flickered against the desk and the melting wax.

"Woah," said Harry. "Where is that coming from?"

"I don't know," said Albus, making a steeple with his fingers. "I can't wandlessly turn on or off any lights. While I was on tour, staying in a muggle hotel, I conjured a torch wandlessly. I could switch it on and off, but the torch didn't cast any light. I could flip the switch with my hands or with my wand and it would work, but never with wandless magic. It was the same with the overhead lights. I turned it on at night, and I could see the light on, but nothing else in the room was illuminated"

"How weird," said Harry, lighting and putting out the candle with idle taps of his fingers.

The slight creak of a handle was the only warning before the door of Albus's office was thrown open. Harry found himself flat on his arse as the chair beneath him was vanished. He looked up at Albus and mouthed ,"Was that wandless?"

Albus nodded, with a slightly satisfied smile.

Their attention turned to whoever had entered the room. Harry was thoroughly hidden behind the desk and couldn't see anything except Albus and a few portraits, but he didn't have to see to know who it was.

"Albus! Hey, do you have some super secret way to get in touch with Crockett? I told him I was busy, but it turns out I'm not and he's gone already."

"Hello, Minerva. I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you knock." He could almost hear Minerva's sarcastic smile. "I believe Harry said he was working on a project," said Albus. He knew not to let Minerva in on the animagus project.

"Yeah," she said. "He's working on a project with me. I'm helping him."

Harry's stomach lurched, but Albus smiled. "This must be a different project."

"Agh," Minerva sighed in exasperation. "It's not a different project. He needs me." Harry rolled his eyes. "Could you just...is there some way to get in touch with him?"

Albus glanced surreptitiously down at Harry and Harry shook his head vigorously.

"I'm afraid I don't have a special Harry communication system. I could try a patronus—"

"I already tried that. He's in a place— it doesn't— he isn't answering. Can't you guys read each other's minds or something?"

"Ah. Not...really," said Albus, glancing briefly at Harry. "Do you know where Harry is? You do, of course, have permission to leave campus."

"I know where he is. He just— I just— It's— I can't get there without him. Not that he's off campus."

"You would get lost? Perhaps I would know how to get there. What is the project you are working on?"

"Oh, it's nothing. It's too far for...Don't worry about..."

Harry whacked Albus's leg under the desk. Albus looked down and Harry mouthed, "Get her out!" with emphatic gestures. Albus just smirked curiously and turned back up to Minerva.

"I didn't realize you were working on a project together. Is it anything I'd be interested in?"

Harry'd had enough. He dissapparated and apparated outside Albus's door and then burst through it.

"Albus! Oh, hello, Minerva."

"Crockett!"

"Harry. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you knock. We were just talking about you," he smiled calmly

Harry smiled back sarcastically.

"I was just looking for you," said Minerva. "I'm...not busy."

"Ah," croaked Harry. He really hadn't thought through how this would work. He swallowed, and found his throat dry. "Yeah. Well."

Albus and Minerva both looked at Harry expectantly as he stuttered on.

"It's just— I was—" The minute seemed to stretch for an hour. He pleaded Albus with his eyes to take pity, but Albus's slightly amused smile only seemed to become more pronounced.

Unfortunately, Harry's best solution was a lie that everyone would know was a lie. Hopefully, thought Harry, both Albus and Minerva would think the lie was for the sake of the other. "I was working with a student," said Harry. "On the tournament. And he asked about the bracket system, so I thought it was about time that Albus and I sorted that all out..." Albus looked at him expectantly. "That is, if you have time." Harry wrung his hands a bit. "If you aren't busy with Minerva."

Then, to Harry's horror, Albus turned to look at Minerva, and then looked back at Harry. "Actually Minerva and I were in the middle of something. Do you have time tomorrow?"

Harry's throat went dryer than it had been a moment ago, and he felt his face flush with helplessness.

"Actually, Albus," said Minerva, "I really ought to—"

"Nonsense, Minerva. Our conversation is of the utmost importance to me right now."

"But, Albus-"

"I insist, Minerva."

"Albus!" exclaimed Harry indignantly.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Minerva and I were just discussing a rather important project, and I'd really like to hear more about it."

_Yeah. My project, _thought Harry.

"Now. How about three-o-clock tomorrow? Tomorrow is the first of December? We can have tea. And Harry, do bring some of those lemon drops. Good of you to drop by."

Harry had no choice but to leave, so he did with a warning, threatening glance at Minerva and a hurt glare at Albus.

As he descended the stone escalator, he thought of dozens of different ways he could have handled that encounter to a better result. He thought that maybe if he hadn't apparated out, maybe Albus would have been forced to dismiss Minerva earlier. Maybe he shouldn't have let Albus vanish his chair in the first place, and he could have just told Minerva a lie for Albus's sake and then made something else later. He could have even popped out from behind the desk and come up with _some _goodreason he was behind it. Then again, maybe not.

What he needed was a time turner. With a time turner, he could be at Hogwarts and in Gringotts at the same time. He could cover for himself. Though he feared the damage was already done, there was no harm in looking for a time turner, so he stopped in front of the blank wall where the Room of Requirement was.

_I need a place to find a Time Turner. I need a time turner. I need a time turner, _he thought, and a door appeared in the wall. Harry smiled and opened it.

No sooner was it open than Harry was thrown backwards. The door remained open, and through it came the most horrible, lonely shrieking. It sounded like a chorus of wounded wolves backed with a horrible wind through a thousand mountainous trees. The doorway was black— a deep sucking black that frightened Harry. He dove towards the door and slammed it shut. He leaned against it and listened to his heart beat in his chest while his breathing calmed down a little.

Did time turners not exist yet? Did the Room of Requirement just...not have one? He doubted it. The room of requirement had a pensive, and pensives were quite rare.

After a moment of thought, he turned back to the wall.

_I need a place to hide my...er...scone. I have a scone, and I need a place to hide it. I need a place to hide my scone._

There. A normal request that had worked a half dozen times for Harry before. The door was there, and he opened it.

The same wind shrieked in his ears, and the black sucked at his eyes. He slammed the door shut before he could be toppled backwards. He leaned against the wall across from the fading door and pulled off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes and his temples, trying to stop the headache that the void seemed to be trying to cause him.

He exhaled and put his glasses back on. He was done being messed with that day.

_I need a place to take out my frustration. I need a place to hit things. I need a room for a duel or something. And if that door doesn't open_, he thought menacingly...

He wrenched the door open for the third time, and his eyes landed on...the room of requirement, stocked full of targets and weapons and a lovely animated dummy. He was so surprised that it had worked that he shut the door again.

_I need a place to hide my lemon drops. I need a place where no one will find my lemon drops. I need to hide my lemon drops._

He pulled the door open again, and there was the huge, towering maze of clutter. It was almost as if the room had just...glitched. It was working now, but Harry forgot all about his initial mission as someone screamed.

Harry slammed the door and ran.

**A/N: Next chapter coming soon! I'm already done with half of it. I'll get it up as soon as I get enough reviews on this one…so, review! =D**

**Next chapter: Who's screaming, and do Albus and Minerva discover Harry's secrets? **

**TTFN.**


	40. The Stairwell

**A/N: Yay for fast updates, again! I'm on a roll. It's just because of the reviews, you know. If you review, then I post. That's really how it works. So. Here's a chapter. Erm…All of my betas are on vacation and I didn't want to bother my grandmother again (pft, like she minds), so this is just…edited by me. I'm going to start rewriting (which…for me just means editing) the whole fic and getting it all triple beta'd, so if there are errors, feel free to point them out and they will be fixed in time. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Last chapter: __He pulled the door open again, and there was the huge, towering maze of clutter. It was almost as if the room had just...glitched. It was working now, but Harry forgot all about his initial mission as someone screamed. _

_Harry slammed the door and ran. _

**Chapter 40**

The scream had come from the opposite direction from Albus's office, and Harry soon found himself in the giant room with all the moving staircases. The entrance to the headmaster's office was on the seventh floor, the highest of the non-tower floors, so Harry was at the highest point in the staircase room. The bottom of the giant stairwell was level with the first floor, and didn't go to the ground floor. The staircase from the first floor to the ground floor was, of course, the grand marble staircase that opened down into the Entry Hall. There were, of course, other stairs that went between each floor, and there were secret passage ways that could take you up or down three floors, and secret slides and elevators, but the staircase chamber, its walls coated in portraits that moved as much as the stairs, received the most traffic.

Harry had six floors beneath him, and six flights of stairs, but looking over the railing, he saw immediately where the scream had come from. One of the staircases, normally floating between landings, was smashed against the marble floor at the bottom of the chamber. The flight of stairs seemed mostly intact, but there was a girl who seemed to be trapped somehow...

Harry wasted no time. He plunged off the side of the landing on the seventh floor, and free-fell. He slowed his decent slightly as he approached the bottom of the chamber, and cushioned the floor. His legs still buckled on impact and he winced in pain, but he shook it off and hurried over to the girl.

It was Artemis Arma, Luna Lovegood's mother, a third year. Both of her legs, up to the knee, were trapped, crushed, beneath the giant stone flight of stairs. Tears were streaming down her ghost-white face and making her white-blond hair stick to her cheeks. A small crowd of students were gathering. Some of them had their wands out and appeared to be trying to lift the stairs off with no success.

"Ok. Everyone take three steps back! Thank you!" called Harry. "Ms. Arma, you're going to be fine. Mr. Lovegood, please go get Professor Dumbledore. He's in his office on the seventh floor. The password is 'strudel.' Tell him there's been an accident and tell him where we are, please. Thank you. Now, Artemis, I'm going to numb your legs. Is that ok?"

She bit her lip in pain, but nodded calmly. Harry put his hand on her shoulder and felt out to her with his body aura and numbed the nerves in her legs that were giving her so much pain. He could tell that the feet and calves were completely mangled, and that each leg bone had been broken at least once. He looked back up when he was done numbing and saw that Xenophilius Lovegood hadn't moved. "Mr. Lovegood, now, please!"

"But Sir, the staircases have stopped. I can't get to the seventh floor, sir. I suspect nargle involvement. If I could just—"

Harry growled in frustration. "I will be back in five seconds. Count, ok? One..."

"Two..." panted Artemis. Harry dissapparated to Albus's office.

"-Ah, I'm sorry. I thought you said it was off campus. Could the project-"

"Honestly, Albus, I should like to ask you what _you _are working on with Harry. Like he thought I'd buy 'working with a student...' I could hear him breathing in here when I came in. Did he do that apparition trick again?"

"OY!" interrupted Harry when Minerva and Albus didn't notice his flustered waving. "Emergency in the stair. NOW." He dissapparated again.

"...Five."

"Ah, right on time. Now. May I lift this off your legs? It won't hurt, but you might want to close your eyes. Your legs are not going to look pretty.

"I will keep my eyes open, I think," said Artemis. "I always wondered what legs would look like if they were crushed by a flight of stairs."

"Oh. You...did? That's...well. Anyway." He glanced around at the surrounding students. "Could everyone move against a wall, please? I don't want to hit anyone with this!"

Harry pulled out his wand, but before he could do anything, the staircase lifted itself of its own accord back into the air. The few fragments that had been knocked off reattached themselves, and the staircase made a beeline to its space between the first and second floors. Harry looked up to see that all of the other staircases had begun moving again too.

"Right..." Harry was only distracted for a moment before turning his attention back to Artemis. "Now, may I fix your legs?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be fine, thanks," said Artemis. "They do look rather horrible. That might be the most horrible thing I've ever seen."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Harry. "Ok. Now. Lay back and just...stay still for a moment, or something."

Harry put both of his hands above Artemis's left leg and began working. He mended the bones, and ligaments, and muscles, and, finally, skin. Then he did the other leg.

"You've never done this before, have you?" asked Artemis.

"Not really," said Harry. "I fixed Professor Dumbledore's leg one time."

"I trust you," she said.

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Would you like to know what happened?" she asked when Harry began repairing the muscle on the second leg.

"If you'd like to tell me," said Harry, keeping his eyes on the leg.

"Well, I looked up and saw that all of the staircases had frozen in place. The one between the first and second floor was the only one with people on it. I think those people over there were on it. And then it fell, and I was under it. I think it might have been too heavy, like there was just enough magic to hold it up, but not enough to move it or hold it up with people on it, so it fell."

Harry had long since deduced that Luna got her strange (and normally false) ideas from her father, and her Ravenclaw brains from her mother.

"That's an interesting theory," said a voice from behind Harry. Albus and Minerva had just made it off the last staircase.

"We saw all of the staircases stopped when we were on the seventh floor," said Minerva. "We saw when they started moving again."

Albus crouched next to Artemis.

"How do you feel?" he asked her softly.

"Oh, I think I'll be fine," she said. "But a few of those people over there might have sprained ankles. They were on the stair when it fell."

"Minerva?" asked Albus.

Minerva nodded and hurried off to the crowd of students.

"Ms. Arma," said Albus softly. "Did you see anything out of the ordinary before the stairs immobilized? Did you hear anything? Feel anything?"

"No, Professor Dumbledore. There was nothing."

Albus sighed and turned to Harry, who was finishing up and un-numbing Artemis's legs. "Harry? Did you feel anything?"

"To be honest, I was a bit distracted by..." he trailed off. The room of requirement had done the same thing!

He met eyes with Albus. "Would you like to continue this conversation in my office?" Albus asked, sensing Harry's realization. Harry nodded.

He turned back to Artemis and absently cleaned her clothes and shoes of blood. "Artemis, do you think you're alright, or would you like to go to the Hospital Wing to take something for shock?" He knew she'd answer honestly.

"I was a little frightened, but I don't think I need any potion for it."

"You should have been in Gryffindor," said Harry with a wink.

"Really, sir, I'm smarter than I am brave."

"And that is saying something. Mr. Lovegood, will you keep an eye on Ms. Arma just in case, please? Thank you," said Albus. "Minerva," he called over the raising din. "Do you have everything—"

"Yes! Go!" she called.

Harry put his hand on Albus's shoulder, and the two of them vanished. They reappeared in the middle of the seventh floor corridor.

"I was distracted...when the Room of Requirement didn't work," Harry told Albus. "I tried to get in, the door appeared, but when I opened it, it was all black and there was this horrible howling noise. That happened twice, but then it worked after that. I'm sure it wasn't because of what I was asking it— I was asking it for really normal rooms, but it just...didn't work."

"Does it work now?" asked Albus.

"Let's see," said Harry. _I need to get Albus into the Room of Requirement. I need a room. I need a room for Albus, _he thought as he paced.

A door appeared and he pulled it open. They both stepped inside.

The room was fairly dark, but flickered all over with candle light. A large king bed covered in rose petals sat against the opposite wall.

"Tired?" asked Albus.

"Exhausted," lied Harry before yanking Albus back out into the corridor. "My point is, could this be related to the stairs? It just...stopped working for a moment."

"They are similar incidents," mused Albus, "but I don't see enough evidence to prove that they are related. We should keep vigilant, and perhaps ask the students, ghosts and paintings to report anything unusual. It may be that they are related, and it's possible that incidents have been occurring for a while without attracting our notice, or perhaps we'll remember something..."

Albus stopped talking and stared at a bit of space.

"What?" asked Harry. "Did you remember something?"

Albus looked up. "Ah, memory...a curious thing. Excuse, me, Harry. I need to go see to something." He flicked his wand in the direction of his office and began pacing in front of the Room of Requirement. Soon a small vial came zooming down the hall, and Albus caught it. A door appeared in the wall and Albus opened, walked through, and shut it behind him. The door vanished, and Harry was alone.

Harry blinked a few times, and then walked back down the hall towards the stairwell. He only got about half way, however, before he ran straight into Minerva.

"So, did you figure it out?" she asked.

"What? Oh, the stairs? Albus just...ran off. I think he might have had some sort of idea."

"Well, while I was sorting out bruises, I remembered that night when we went to _Comede Noctem_— when the kitchens weren't working. Did Albus ever figure out what was wrong with them?"

"Hey! You're right! Id' forgotten about the kitchens. That seems like the same thing! And, you know how there are all kinds of magical rooms...well, when I was...um... on my way downstairs a few minutes ago, I tried to get into one and it didn't work. That was right before the stairs stopped working."

"I wonder what's wrong. But you think Albus figured it out?"

"To be honest, I have no idea what he ran off about. You know him." They were both quiet for a moment.

"Well, when he comes back, we'll tell him about the kitchens."

"Yep," said Harry.

They were quiet again, stuck in a very uncomfortable silence. Minerva broke it violently.

"You're working on a secret project with Albus?"

"What? I— no! We were just-"

"If it wasn't a secret project, why did you tell me you were working in the vault?"

"I was, but then I-"

"Ended up under Albus's desk."

"He dropped a quill."

"And you stayed there hiding from me."

"Because I told you I was in the vault— and I thought you'd think I was lying if you saw me in Albus's office."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I'd have thought you'd changed your mind about working in the vault, not lying. _Now _I think you were lying. In fact, I know you're lying."

"Why, did Albus tell you?"

"See? You've got Albus keeping secrets from me, just like I'm keeping secrets from him!"

Harry could have hit himself. He changed the subject. "Did you tell him about the vault?"

"Well, you know Albus. You never know how much he knows."

"But?"

"I don't think he got anything significant. He knows we're working on something. I still don't understand why you can't tell him about the vault— and why you're not telling me what you're working on with him unless it's...it's..." she gasped. "No! No way! Under his desk...Oh Merlin." She grimaced and covered her face with her hands. "Crockett. Really? That's just—"

"What? What! No! NO! We weren't...Did you think...? No! What, wait...is that what you thought?"

"Is what what I thought...?"

"That we...what did you think we were doing?"

"I thought...well...that...um..."

"Well, we weren't," said Harry sharply.

They stared each other down.

"Fine."

"Fine."

Minerva sniffed. "So, what were you doing?"

"Really, Minerva. It's nothing."

"Nothing like a giant vault with historical objects from the Hogwarts founders themselves?"

"Nope," said Harry. "You got the good project."

"So if it's nothing, tell me what you're doing. Or- Or I'll tell Albus about the vault."

"Minerva! Oh, come on! That would be catastrophic and you know it."

"No, Harry, I don't know that. You haven't given me any of your reasons why that would be so terrible."

"That's his business."

"Well, you can either tell me why I can't tell him, tell me what you're working on with him, or I'll tell him about the vault."

"Did 'Blackmail' used to be a course at Hogwarts?"

"Have you a quill? Dear Albus, Harry has a secret vault that he opens with his Deathly Hallow cloak and it has-"

"Alright, alright! Just...Keep your voice down," pleaded Harry, glancing nervously at the wall where the Room of Requirement (with Albus in it) was. "Come on...we'll go somewhere private." Minerva smiled and skipped like a schoolgirl for a few feet.

They found a deserted classroom, and Harry put silencing charms around the door.

"Ok. So. The reason why I didn't tell you about this is because I don't want to have to tell the ministry...If you tell, I swear I will _obliviate_ you and everyone involved," he threatened. She shrugged innocently. "I'm trying to change my animagus form—or optimally add one to my repertoire. I'm trying to change into a phoenix."

Minerva sighed. "You got all worked up over _that_? Don't worry, Crockett. I won't tell anyone— _if _you manage to do it, anyway."

Harry sighed in relief. Having secrets was stressful.

"So, why a phoenix?" asked Minerva.

Harry grimaced. He hadn't thought out this part of the conversation. "So, did you ever meet Fawkes?"

"The phoenix?"

"Yeah. He...got killed, um, a few months ago."

"Wow...I wondered where he'd gone. But, I thought phoenixes couldn't die."

"Well, I thought they could only die if they chose to kill themselves, but he got in the way of a particular wand..."

"What wand could kill a phoenix?"

"Erm...So...You remember the Deathly Hallows?"

"_That _wand? The Elder Wand? Death's Wand? You have that one too?"

"Erm...no. A..friend of mine...does."

"And your friend killed Fawkes?"

"Not...no. I— It was an accident."

"Right. So. You're turning into a phoenix as a tribute to Fawkes?"

"Not exactly...Ah...Fawkes is still alive."

"You just said-"

"His body's dead, but his, er, soul is still alive...Um..." Minerva looked at him blankly. "He got transferred to me, sort of, and now he's..."

"Crockett, are you telling me you're sharing your body with the soul of a dead phoenix?"

"Ah...yes. I suppose I am."

She pressed her lips together in a perfect impersonation of her older self and nodded. "Conjure me a brandy and I'll believe anything you say."

Harry looked at her stern face, and soon the two of them were laughing.

* * *

Albus shut the door of the Room of Requirement behind him and strode quickly to the Pensive. He emptied the memory into the basin and dipped his face in after.

Icy rain fell through Albus's robes, and the wind howled around him. His boots sank inches deep into mud that couldn't touch him. He looked around, surveying the storm. The Quidditch stands rose around him, and the roar of a crowd could just be heard over the wind. Albus headed directly over to the stands. He ducked into a flight of stairs that was sheltered from the rain, the flight of stairs where he knew he would find his future self.

And there Professor Dumbledore stood before him, his silver beard glistening slightly with drops of water.

"You should come with me," said the man in the memory before sweeping off in the direction of the exit.

Albus hurried after his older self.

Soon the two men were back in the storm, fighting their way back to the castle. They finally reached the stairs and the empty entry hall. Professor Dumbledore dried himself wandlessly.

"Welcome. The year is 1993. Harry is in his third year, and I…I am still headmaster, remarkably."

They climbed the grand staircase and started treading the path towards the headmaster's tower. Albus found himself wanting to walk more quickly. The memory seemed more tedious now that he was watching it for the second time— and he didn't know what he was looking for yet.

"I believe…you have accidentally stumbled upon this memory after Harry left it in the Room of Requirement. The watch is broken. You are in pain. Harry does not understand why. You mustn't blame him, and you mustn't blame yourself. Of course, I have never figured out why he wanted to look at this particular memory, but it gives us a chance to talk."

"Yes, and what else?"

"It isn't a two way communication, but I'm not senile yet," said Professor Dumbledore.

"I do hope not," muttered Albus. "Come on..."

Professor Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Do you remember what the inscription said on the back of the watch?"

There Albus paused for thought. If he knew he would watch the memory twice, he would put in statements that applied to both situations. Maybe if he tried to interpret himself in a different way... Was it possible that he could refer to two watches in the same conversation with himself?

"What did it stand for?"

One problem with that theory was, there was no inscription on the back of the watch Harry'd given him. Albus had spent long hours tracing its front, examining it all over. He'd noticed that the watch had more uses than telling time, but had yet to figure them all out. It was obviously a very old and magical artifact. It even resembled the timepiece Merlin himself was fabled to wear. There had been hundreds of thousands of replicas of Merlin's watch, of course, but Merlin's had untold special features. Albus just wondered where Harry could possibly have gotten this particular watch, Merlin's or, more likely, not.

"His partner," said Professor Dumbledore. "His partner in what?"

Well, Harry was working with a partner for his mystery project. Minerva was working with him— but partner in what, again?

They reached the spiral escalator. "Crock-pot," said Professor Dumbledore, and the gargoyles leaped aside.

What projects could Harry keep from him? What project would Harry keep from him, and why? Harry knew he could trust Albus—Albus had even promised to keep his second animagus form secret, and Harry knew very well that Albus would be very interested in any magical study or discoveries.

"All too well. But have you forgotten your partnership for the Greater Good?"

"Ah! This is a conversation!" exclaimed Albus, keeping in step with Professor Dumbledore as he went into the room and over to the window. Professor Dumbledore nodded. Albus must have missed the nod on the first time through the memory because he'd hesitated in the doorway."But what does this have to do with the Greater Good?"

Professor Dumbledore made a hand gesture that could have been a shrug if his index finger hadn't been extended towards his desk...

Knowing his own motions quite well, Albus took the pointing gesture to be intentional and hurried off to the desk.

Professor Dumbledore kept talking to himself in the background... "There is no way to fix that, Albus, and perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one." The memory flickered just as Albus swung behind the desk. He knew he had just seconds.

"It will be difficult, but it will be better," said Dumbledore, but Albus wasn't paying attention. He looking over all the papers on Dumbledore's desk.

The memory flickered again, and Albus's search became more frantic.

"Now?" Dumbledore asked.

The memory dimmed and flickered again.

Dear Merlin, why was everything written in green? Black was so much more legible. But there! A faded yellow piece of parchment with the illustration of a phoenix.

"Harry…" Albus heard Dumbledore say, before a woosh of flame and then...

The memory blacked out, and Albus found himself back in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor. He exhaled and took off his glasses, slightly dizzy from the transition between his frantic search and sitting on a floor.

But it was there! On the desk for him!

He got back on his feet and dove right back into the memory.

Icy rain fell through Albus's robes, and the wind howled around him. His boots sank inches deep into mud that couldn't touch him. The Quidditch stands rose around him, and the roar of a crowd could just be heard over the wind. Albus wasted no time. He jogged over to the stands, ducked into flight of stairs, passed his future self, and hurried back out into the rain and up to the castle. He took as many shortcuts as he knew, and soon came upon the gargoyles. He rushed past them and sprinted up the immobile escalator. He paused for the briefest moment outside the closed door to his office before remembering that he was a memory and that he could probably walk through things. He walked straight through the door and hurried over to his desk.

There it was, the drawing of a phoenix he'd done just months earlier. The page had yellowed and cracked around the edges, but the phoenix almost seemed brighter. Next to that was a piece of parchment with a short message in green ink.

_When was the last time you visited Gringotts?_

_-APWBD_

_P.S._

_Kitchens_

The door to the office opened and Dumbledore swept in. "...But have you forgotten your partnership for the Greater Good?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded and pointed towards Albus and the desk.

Albus remembered the note and quickly committed it to (his own) memory.

Professor Dumbledore kept talking. "There is no way to fix that, Albus, and perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one." The memory flickered, and Albus knew time was almost up again. He looked around to make sure he hadn't missed anything. But would this information even lead him to knowing Harry's project? Harry must have had a good reason for not telling him. Should he even know?

"It will be difficult, but it will be better," said Dumbledore, and for some reason Albus was sure that comment applied to him then.

The memory flickered again.

"Now?" Dumbledore asked the phoenix.

The memory dimmed and flickered again.

"Harry…" Albus heard Dumbledore say, before the phoenix grabbed him by the shoulders and they vanished in a whirl of flame.

The memory blacked out, and Albus found himself back in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor.

Gringotts?

* * *

**Next chapter: Albus makes a visit to Gringotts—his first one in a **_**very **_**long time.**

**A/N: I should be updating soon, again. I've got a bit of chapter 41 already written. Review, please!**


	41. Temptation

**A/N: Again, all of my betas are on vacation, at camp, not caught up, or criminally insane, so this has only been edited by me. If you see errors, please let me know and I shall fix them.  
Thanks for all the reviews on last chapter! I wouldn't have published so soon without them—and the same goes for next chapter… Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry hadn't been able to find Albus for the rest of the day on Saturday, and when he visited Albus's office on Sunday morning, the first of December, no one was there. He resigned himself to the probability that Albus was out investigating some theory or consulting with some expert about the castle's glitching.

He retreated to his own office.

The score board had changed. It now read Crockett:5, Dumbledore:8. It had given Albus two points: one for turning Harry back into a human, and one the Halloween costume. It had given Harry a well deserved point for the prank he and Minerva had pulled in the middle of the night after the Halloween party.

Harry knew it had been a successful prank because Albus hadn't mentioned it since, though he had turned red every time he saw Harry for about a week after. Harry, meanwhile, had had a hell of a time keeping the encounter out of his dreams, and his dreams out of Albus's dreams. -But that was three weeks earlier.

Harry wasn't entirely making things up when he said he needed to talk to Albus about the tournament bracketing system. The tournament would start on Monday, the sixteenth of December, and the championship would be held on Friday, the twentieth. The students would depart on the morning of the twenty first for their winter holidays. Harry had just over two weeks to finish preparing the students and setting up the tournament structure with Albus— if he could find Albus.

He sat down behind his desk and sighed. Then, he noticed a note on his desk, unsealed and written in black ink.

_Harry, _

_I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I will have to cancel our meeting this afternoon. I have discovered some important information and will be spending the day working on a project. I may return by the afternoon, but I believe that it would be fairer to let you open your schedule back up. It would, however, be especially efficient and effulgent of you if you would draw up your ideas for the tournament time table, and I can look at them upon my return. _

_Yours,_

_Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore_

"Draw up my ideas for the time table?" repeated Harry out loud. "Just assumes I—"

"You _are _his employee, after all," said Minerva. Harry jumped in surprise.

"Minerva!" He hadn't noticed her come in.

"The door was unlocked. Anyway, Albus told me he was going to be gone today, so I figured he would have canceled your meeting...leaving you free...?" She paused and Harry looked at her blankly. "Do... you want to go to the vault?"

Harry frowned down at the letter.

"Yeah..." he said, tearing his gaze away from the letter to look back at Minerva. "Sure. I guess. You saw him, though? I've been looking for him. Do you know what he's working on?"

"Hypocrite."

"What! I was just _asking_."

They left the office and went up to Harry's room where Harry'd put a two-way vanishing cabinet to the vault. They both ducked under the invisibility cloak, climbed into the cabinet, and dissappeared with a whoosh.

* * *

Albus woke up early on Sunday morning. He dressed with a few snaps of his fingers, smiling at his new powers, and hurried down to breakfast. Over his bacon, he contemplated, once again, the note he'd found in Harry's memory. "_When was the last time you visited Gringotts?"_ it had asked. Albus hadn't actually set foot inside Gringotts for a very long time. There was something unfriendly about the whole edifice, so Albus didn't go out of his way to visit.

When it came down to it, though, Albus didn't bother much with money anyway. He had the home he'd always wanted, food, amenities, and a benefactor for his research. Somehow or other, his paycheck usually ended up paying for Ministry ordained updates on the castle's security (which he could have done himself were it legal), new supplies for the potions master or nurse, or exotic plants for the greenhouses. Failing to find necessities around the castle in need of replenishment, Albus would find an excuse to buy liquor from the Hogs Head (as Aberforth, his brother, did not take kindly to outright donations).

He was well respected in the Ministry, and was on the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards (and had even been nominated for the positions of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Minister of Magic three times), and was given so many books and magical artifacts that he never had to buy any for himself. Unlike for many in the ministry, money had nothing to do with Albus Dumbledore's prowess and standing.

The Dumbledores had a family vault, but Albus had given that to Aberforth when he became a teacher. Aberforth had put all of his mother's, father's, and sister's old things in the vault, and used most of the money to buy the Hog's Head. Meanwhile, Albus had opened his own account, and proceeded to ignore its existence most of the time.

The result of living at Hogwarts almost full time, donating his paychecks, and having more titles than he had names was that Albus had not needed to visit Gringotts for at least ten years, if not more. He wondered if something could have changed in his vault, or if there was something there he'd forgotten...

The note had led him to believe that Gringotts had something to do with Harry's project, but Albus couldn't see how his own vault could have anything to do with Harry.

He did remember Harry mentioning a vault a few months earlier, while they were at _Comede Noctem_. Harry'd mentioned that he left animagus books in the vault, and then Albus had deduced that the one-way vanishing cabinet that led to his pajama wardrobe was in Harry's vault. What he, Albus, could find out at Gringotts...he didn't know, but he was going to look.

He finished up breakfast just as Minerva came in.

"Morning, Albus. Harry was looking for you last night. Said you'd looked like you'd figured something out?"

"Hello, Minerva," said Albus. "I had no such luck with the staircase incident."

"Harry said there was also a room that didn't work?"

"Yes, he told me about that too."

"Well, we thought that maybe it could all be related to when the kitchens stopped working the night we went out. What do you think?"

Albus looked pensive for a moment and then smiled. "Ah...yes, I believe that fits the pattern," he said, remembering the last line of the note in the memory: _"P.S. Kitchens."_ "Yes, well, I'm going out today. I should be gone most of the day."

"Oh," said Minerva. "Where are you going?"

"Gringotts," said Albus. Minerva's surprised expression told Albus he was, indeed, on the right track.

"Oh—oh," she stuttered. "Er...For the whole day?"

"Quite possibly," he said.

"Weren't you meeting with Harry today?"

"Oh...I think I'll just put him to work designing the system himself. He is my employee, after all, and based on the number of projects he's working on, I think he might have too much time on his hands."

Minerva laughed. "Don't forget; he's mostly working on preparing the kids for the tournament."

"Yes, well...Perhaps I am just selfish and nosy, then. Enjoy your breakfast, Minerva." And with that, he strode off, out of the hall, out of the castle, and out of the grounds so that he could apparate to London.

As he strode through the great doors of Gringotts, Albus felt the unwelcoming enchantments around him and the sense of hostility. On previous visits, he'd felt it from the looks of the Goblins and the slogan on the front of the marble building, but on this visit he felt it in the magic.

Albus swept up to a counter and addressed the goblin there.

"I would like to visit my vault, please," said Albus, handing the goblin the key.

The goblin squinted down at Albus (from his perch on a stool or something similar). Albus thought to himself that it had been a while since anyone had had the audacity to look at him quite like that. It was most refreshing.

"Which vault, _Mister _Dumbledore_?_"

"I believe my vault is number seven hundred and thirteen," said Albus, deciding against correcting the goblin on his title. Albus made a point of only being excessively superior when faced with true rudeness. The goblin was just being snooty.

"That is, indeed, the number on the key. It is that vault which you would like to visit?"

Albus paused for a second. Since he had begun speaking to the goblin, at least two other customers had already come and gone from the counters on either side of him. Those goblins would take the key, and, without any extra conversation, escort the customers to a cart.

Albus's goblin, on the other hand, had asked him which vault, when it was clearly marked on the key, and then asked to confirm that he wanted to visit that vault. The goblin was not blind, as he had been reading and writing a moment before, he was not inordinately chatty, because chattiness was not a feature that existed in the goblin gene pool, and he was not messing with Albus, because nobody messed with Albus Dumbledore. Or...at least nobody but Harry and Minerva, anyway.

What Albus had to conclude then, was that either this was Harry pretending to be a goblin, or that he had the option of visiting more than one vault. The second, which was more likely, was the anomaly that he'd been waiting for.

"No," he said. "Not today, I think. I shall visit the other vault today."

"Very well." The goblin flashed his sharp, crooked teeth at Albus for a moment, and then disappeared behind the counter. Albus saw him go through a door behind the counter, and then he reappeared a moment later followed by a crowd of goblins. Albus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"This way," said the goblin he'd first spoken to. They led Albus to the mouth of the caverns that Albus knew went down for miles. Parked there was a train of little carts. The goblin gestured that Albus take the front car, and all of the goblins started filling in the carts behind him. Albus stepped into the front cart and took his seat, his knees pressing uncomfortably against the front of the car due to his height.

Without much warning, the cart started to move. Albus did remember riding the carts when he was a child and teen. He studied physics before he was allowed to study magic, and he loved calculating the physics behind the motion of the carts. He could calculate the speed by estimating the length of each piece of track, and counting the number of _clacks_ the cart made per minute. This train, he guessed, was going much faster than one little cart did.

He was thrown against left side of the cart, and then the right as his inertia battled the train's path. He memorized every turn of the cart until...

Then the cave wall to the right of the track fell away and the underground lake was exposed, stretching along their side. Albus looked across, but couldn't make out the opposite bank through a blanket of mist.

Suddenly the cart lurched to the right, off the track, straight towards the lake. Albus groaned as his knees slammed particularly hard against the cart. The goblins were silent. They'd expected this.

The cart was still moving smoothly, or as smoothly as it ever did despite the fact that there was no track. The cart was rolling along, several inches off the cavern floor.

Then, to Albus's awe, the train was rolling over the undisturbed mirror of water, straight towards the center of the lake. The train dove through the mist until Albus couldn't see the bank they'd come from, but then Albus could see...a dark shape in the water in front of them.

As they grew closer, Albus could see that it was a circle where there was no water, and no land. It was just a hole in the lake. They grew closer and closer until the hole was right along side them, and then the train stopped.

Albus peered over the side of the train to see a stone room. The room was in the shape of a cylinder, five meters in diameter, and probably about five meters deep.

Albus turned to the goblins. "Will you wait for me?" he asked.

The goblin in the cart directly behind him, the one from the counter, sneered. "We will wait if we escort you into the vault."

Albus thought for a moment. Albus was not prejudiced, but he knew that the priority of the goblins would be to reposes any goblin-made items. Also, though he hadn't worked out exactly what the vault was, he guessed that it was seldom accessed and, most likely, a source of intrigue to the goblins. He also surmised that they could not enter without his permission or assistance, which was not true for any other vaults in Gringotts, to Albus's knowledge. He knew that their inability to access the vault would frustrate the goblins, which might make them more dangerous.

It had occurred to Albus, in one of his millions of thoughts, that he was about to have access to the vault where Harry stored his vanishing cabinet to Albus's rooms, and thus he would be able to get out. It had also occurred to him that the note about Gringotts was completely unrelated to Harry's project, and that he could be stuck in the pits of Gringotts until he either swam across the lake and climbed back out, or starved to death.

His options were to risk starving to death or being back stabbed by goblins, possibly literally. Because they were willing to leave him, Albus knew they valued whatever was in the vault more than his life—or they were bluffing. The wizarding community would be very upset if he vanished, Albus reasoned. —And if his perfect breaststroke failed, or he hadn't memorized the tracks as well as he thought he had, maybe he'd be able to get in touch with Harry to get him out.

So with this logic in mind, and some nagging feeling that the goblins would be unwelcome in the vault, he declined their offer.

"I think I will find my own way, but thank you for the ride down."

They squinted at him mutinously, and Albus swung himself out of the cart before they tried to change his mind for him. Before he realized, he'd sunk ankle deep in the water, but his feet weren't wet at all. It was almost as if the water were an illusion.

He turned to the goblins with a smile. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your morning," and he stepped down into the chamber.

* * *

Harry and Minerva were having a ball, so to speak. They'd found a set of set of four white spheres that had been donated by the head of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Games and Sports in 1650. Harry'd picked one of the spheres up, only to have it immediately enclose his entire fist. He freaked out for a minute, until he tried to open his fist and it came off. He soon discovered that putting a sphere on each fist would allow him to fly, in a wobbly sort of way.

Minerva came in from the living room and laughed herself silly, until Harry finally asked what was so funny.

"Those go on your feet, Crockett."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Oh."

"Can I have a go?" Minerva asked. "Those haven't been on sale for at least a century."

"Sure," said Harry. "There's another pair."

The spheres, worn on the feet, acted like a pair of ice skates, only for levitation rather than ice. Minerva and Harry spent quite a while chasing each other around mid-air in the ballroom-like library until they were both out of breath from keeping their speed and balance.

"Why did they stop making them?" asked Harry, gliding slowly alongside Minerva.

"The brooms got faster," said Minerva. Harry slipped in the air and wound up upside down dangling by his feet. "And brooms are safer," she added with a smirk and a graceful mid-air twirl.

Harry managed to get himself to the ground, but couldn't figure out how to get the skates off. They'd come off his hands when he opened his fists, but he couldn't do that with his feet.

"Minerva? Do you know how to get these off?"

"Click your heels three times," she said.

Harry smiled and clicked his heels. "There's no place like home..."

"Sorry?"

"Oh. Er, you know, the Wizard of Oz."

"Where's Oz?"

Harry laughed at the absurdity of the question, but was cut off when he felt an odd tug at his magic.

"Er...Did you do something just now?" he asked Minerva.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, hit me with a spell or something?"

"Nope. Where's Oz?"

"Ah..." said Harry distractedly. "Doesn't exist— did you feel anything? Like...a tug on your magical aura?"

"A what on my what what?"

Harry frowned. "Like...like that feeling you get when you're casting a spell, or when someone casts a spell on you."

"Spells all feel different when you cast them," she said, "and certainly different when people cast them on you. So, do you mean feel like bat-boggy hex, or like cheering charm?"

"No...there's something else you feel that's all the same, usually. A sort of energy that you get or lose or...Actually, it's more like what I feel when I enter the vault."

"I don't feel anything when I—"

There was a deep grinding rumbling sound from the direction of the living room and Harry and Minerva looked around, alarmed.

"Cave in?" Minerva shrieked over the continued rumble.

"Don't know! Cabinet?"

They lunged out of the ballroom-library and back into the living room with the cabinets and desk.

"Your place or mine?" smirked Harry.

"No, wait! It's not coming from in here," said Minerva. Harry listened, and she was right. The grinding sound seemed to be coming from past the door to the antechamber. It also didn't sound nearly as loud outside of the echoing ballroom. "It's coming from out there," said Minerva. "I don't think that's a cave in, either."

"But it does sound like stone on stone...almost like..."

"What, like the goblins are trying to pry open the door?"

Harry frowned. He grabbed the invisibility cloak from where it was draped over a chair, and the two of them jogged down the hall to the door of the vault.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the grinding stopped.

"Quick! Get under here," Harry said. He swung the invisibility cloak over them and the door in front of them vanished. Both Harry and Minerva gasped in shock at what they saw in the antechamber.

* * *

As Albus descended the stairs, he heard, to his mild surprise, the sound of the train leaving. Apparently, the goblins had meant business. All thoughts of how he would get back out, though, vanished as symbols began to glow on the circular wall and floor of the chamber.

A line. The wand. A triangle. The cloak. A circle. The stone. And on the floor, all three glowed in a symbol that haunted his memories. Albus had found the vaults of the Peverell brothers.

He stood as if frozen on the stairs for a full minute, his noisy brain shocked into silence by the glowing symbols. The only sound was the occasional drip of a stalactite, the thundering in Albus's chest, and the breath rattling through his open mouth.

Then, his thoughts came flooding back with such a force that he had to learn, crooked, against the wall.

His wand was the key to the the vault.

Ariana.

He could open the vault.

Ariana.

He'd found the vaults of the Hallows.

Ariana.

What harm could it do? It was only the wand.

But maybe there was a trace of the stone...

Ariana.

He tried to reassemble his logic, his beautiful logic that let him make the right decision every time. The logic he used to calculate the speed of the Gringotts carts, the logic he'd used just moments earlier to decide to venture into the antechamber alone. Alone, with nobody to stop him.

He was swamped with the same conflicting emotions that had resulted from his original search for the Hallows. He felt the terror, hurt, and even hate from what Gellert had done to him—made him into, and his old love and admiration for Gellert was like acid on the wound. These emotions had led him to hide from Gellert Grindelwald for years, letting people around him die. The same emotions were still ruining his life years later— for example, they had led him to nearly alienate Harry.

He'd had years to ponder, though. He could bring her back with the stone, and there was the stone's vault right there.

Ariana.

Rare irrational thoughts plagued his mind: what if Gellert had accessed the wand's vault? Gellert could know...Albus imagined walking into the vault and immediately being magically shown vivid and irrefutable visions of he, Albus, murdering his sister.

He tore his gaze away from the piece of wall with the wand, and looked to the one with the circle. He could bring her back with the Stone, and there was the stone's vault right there. Maybe the stone was nearer to his grasp, even though he couldn't open that vault.

He could earn the forgiveness of his brother, his parents, himself.

Of _Ariana_.

He stepped down the remaining stairs onto the floor as if in a trance. He turned to the vault of the Elder Wand, standing straight and stiff like the symbol on the wall. He allowed himself to be hypnotized by its glow.

He drew the Elder Wand and pointed it at the door. "_Alohamora!_"

The room was silent for a moment, except for the dripping. Then, the line on the wall began to glow brighter and brighter. It extended up, and down to the floor. When the light of the wall was blinding, the wall began to split with an almighty groan of stone grinding on stone. The sides of the wall thundered apart, the excess stone disappearing impossibly.

And then it stopped. The door was open. And Albus walked in.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Does Harry stop Albus ? Does Albus find out that Harry's just thirty feet behind him? And what's in the Elder Vault (which…is really not what it's called, **_**by**_** the way)?**

**A/N: Yep. So, I've got a bit of chapter 42 already written. I'd love to hear whatever you have to say before I publish some more, so, review please!**


	42. The Second Vault

**A/N: Chapter 42! Meaning of life! This chapter was mostly beta'd by Toki Mirage. Thanks, Mirage. A special thanks to Nessi who bounced me through this (I use bounce, as in bounce board, rather than muse) for several hours over skype. I think we've got the rest of the fic all worked out (and two sequels to boot, hah). **

**This chapter is dedicated to Purple Uranium, who left me a review on chapter 41. This review was the best review I've ever gotten. It was actually a little scary. She saw through all those little bits where I say "oops, I screwed up. Don't worry, the readers won't notice," and gave me the best constructive criticism...Seriously, if you want to know how to write a really helpful review, check her out. **

**I also wanted to comment briefly (ok, not) about another review I got this week. Someone was yelling at me for my review-whoring (my words, not his/hers), and despite the unnecessarily strong wording of that review, I wanted to apologize for/explain said review-whoring. I don't _actually_ wait until I have a certain number of reviews before posting again, and if I do, it's when I'm posting really frequently (three times a week) anyway. I often find that if I post too frequently, I get ahead of myself plot wise and publish mistakes that are hard to fix. I also like to wait until I've seen how 'yall interpret the chapter before I publish the next one in case I need to add more explanation or something. I don't ask for reviews because I want an ego boost— my favorite ones are the ones that offer constructive criticism. I'd actually prefer "your first seven chapters are underwritten compared to the rest of the story" or "that was confusing, I'd love to get a clearer picture of this..." over "good chapi update soon" any day. I write because I like writing. I'm not going to _stop _if I don't have enough reviews. If that was me, I'd write HPDM. =P**

**Sorry. That was long. Here's your chapter.**

**

* * *

**

**Last Chapter: **

_He drew the Elder Wand and pointed it at the door. "_Alohamora!_"_

_The door was open. And Albus walked in._

"_Quick! Get under here," Harry said. He swung the invisibility cloak over them and the door in front of them vanished. Both Harry and Minerva gasped in shock at what they saw in the antechamber._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 42**

"But...but that's Albus," said Minerva.

"Yes...yes it is," said Harry slowly.

"But...he just went into that vault...the vault with the wand. I thought you said some friend of yours had that wand."

"Albus...is my friend."

"Crockett," she growled.

"Shh! Keep your voice down," said Harry.

"But Albus killed Fawkes?"

"Well, no. I...it was...an accident...and...well, it's a long story."

"Right. Well, he's already gone in to the vault. Why isn't the door closing?"

"Well," said Harry, thinking, "the original owners of these objects were very different from each other. Ignotus valued family and friendship and would have only wanted to let in people who he had under the cloak with him. Antioch, on the other hand, was a greedy, bragging man who probably would have enjoyed showing off the contents of his vault to lots of people. That or it's stuck."

"Right, so, is this what you were worried about? Him getting into that vault? Is it dangerous in there? Is there some sort of trap?"

"Well, no," said Harry. "Actually, it could be— I don't know what's in there." Harry realized that there very well could be some sort of trap in the vault. It almost seemed likely, but for what may have been the first time in his life, it occurred to him that the consequences of rushing in to save Albus might be worse than letting him fend for himself. Who ever said people didn't change?

"So, what are we still doing here? Shouldn't we go save him?"

Harry made a pained expression. "He really shouldn't know we're here."

"Well, if he didn't know, why else would he be here? I've never seen him visit Gringotts before."

Harry rounded on her. "Did you tell him anything?"

"No! No, really. I didn't."

"Minerva, this is very serious. What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. Just...I think he'd gathered that it was off campus."

"And did he tell you where he was going when you saw him this morning?"

"Er...well..." she suddenly looked worried. "He...did say Gringotts."

"And you didn't think you should mention that?" asked Harry incredulously, forgetting to keep his voice down.

"How was I to know he was coming to _these_ vaults? You didn't exactly _tell _me about the whole wand business. So, if he has the wand and knows what it is, why were you keeping all this from him?"

Harry glanced nervously at the antechamber. The door to the other vault was still open.

"Alright, Minerva." He needed to find a way to convey the gravity of the situation without betraying Albus's secrets. How was it he'd managed to keep the secret about Neville's insane parents all those years ago? Oh right. No one had ever asked him. "Do you know that bloke Grindelwald?"

"Um, the evilest tyrannical wizard of our age? Yeah. I remember."

"Yeah. Right. So, he was a fairly brilliant wizard, but he became really powerful when he got this wand...Albus beat him in a duel and took the wand, knowing it was very dangerous in the wrong hands. Albus uses the wand, but all this," he gestured to the vaults, "will have brought up painful memories."

"Painful memories of putting a dark wizard in his own prison, freeing the people he enslaved, and taking his super-wand? What, is he allergic to catharsis?"

"Well...painful memories of Grindelwald himself, I suppose. See, Grindelwald might have gone into the vault when he had the wand and...left things."

"Right, well, Albus is already in there. The damage's been done. Let's go help him."

"Agh. No. See," said Harry. He hesitated, trying to think up a partial truth. The problem was, he couldn't tell Minerva that Albus wanted the stone. That was too much information. Harry was starting to get a crick in his neck from stooping to fit under the cloak with Minerva.

"Ok, so tell me this, Crockett. How would going out there and seeing him make things worse?"

"Well..." Harry thought. If they went out, Albus would find out about Harry's vault. He would find out about the cloak. Those revelations, in and of themselves, would do very little harm. In fact, Harry would love to share those secrets with Albus, but Albus would know that if Harry had the vault, then he also must know about the Hallows in general. Albus would surely begin to ask questions, and Harry was one of only two people alive who knew the Resurrection Stone was just sitting in Gaunt's shack.

Also, because Minerva was there with him, Albus would find out that the vault was the mysterious project. Without Minerva there, Albus might have assumed that the vault was something Harry just hadn't bothered mention, but if it was "the project," then he'd know Harry had kept it from him intentionally. Harry had kept the project from Albus but not from Minerva, and that might rouse his suspicions, not to mention that it could hurt his feelings that Harry'd confided in Minerva and not him.

An unwanted side effect of the whole situation was that Minerva might decide it her business to investigate into Albus's Grindelwald history. But, Harry reckoned, if they stood there for much longer under the cloak together, Harry wasn't sure he wouldn't let something slip by mistake.

The more he thought about it, rushing in was looking like the best idea. Ok, so people don't change that much.

At least Harry knew rushing in could help a few things, and he knew how to fix a few of the flaws in the plan.

"Ok. Come back here for a sec." Harry and Minerva wobbled back from the doorway a bit into the vault. "Let's take off the cloak. I'm getting a crick in my neck."

"Are you going to answer my question?" She batted the cloak off herself.

Harry quickly pulled the cloak tightly back around himself and moved slightly so she wouldn't know where he was. "I'm really sorry about this, Minerva. See you in a few."

"What? Crockett! What! No! You can't!"

Harry exited the vault, leaving Minerva trapped inside yelling at him.

He bit his lip. "She's...gonna kill me," he muttered, and he walked invisibly into the vault of Antioch Peverell.

Unlike Ignotus's vault which led straight into a living room, Antioch's had a long stone corridor at its mouth. Harry edged as quietly as possible down the corridor. He saw that there was an opening on the right side at the end of the corridor, and there was a dull light coming from it. He couldn't hear anything but his own heartbeat and breathing. He didn't know if that was a good sign for Albus, or a bad sign.

What would he find? Piles of gold? A library? A veritable museum like the one in his vault? What sort of treasure would be there?

He rounded the corner, and there was gray antechamber with a door at the opposite end.

_The man did like a walk,_ thought Harry. He carefully felt out the door with his magic for safety before carefully pulling it open.

On the other side of the door was an unlit, gray room. There were no torches, and indeed, no brackets for torches. There was just a door on the other end, and Harry went to it, opened it, and went through. He stepped into the next room and his breath was taken away by the sheer size of it. The room felt like the Hall of Prophecies, the Room of Requirement's Lost Objects room, a cathedral of shelves.

The shelves were empty.

Some were even broken, their wood splintered or just...hanging off uselessly. All of it was covered in dust.

The room was the size of a large cathedral. The floor would have fit a football pitch, if football were played indoors on dust rather than grass. By wizards. In vaults. With shelves.

The ceiling was made to impress. Harry thought a full vault this size would be impressive. Someone had made big plans.

Harry wandered through the vault, his invisible feet making prints in the dust like they would in snow. This dust, Harry thought, is what would happen if snow could die somehow rather than melt.

And then he spied a disturbance in the dust. It was a pair of prints— a large shoe with a somewhat pointed toe and a prominent, square heel. That would be Albus's. Harry followed.

The prints stopped and turned, wandered, and continued. Harry could imagine Albus looking up at the arching ceiling, walking over to a shelf and running his hand down its side, stepping onward. Harry was seeing what Albus had seen. Harry wondered if Albus had felt the same thing too as he looked at the empty, graying shelves, the walls that had been stripped of their brackets, the accumulating dust.

But then there was a door at the end of the tracks. Harry was sure there was something beyond that door. Obviously, Antioch had overbuilt a bit and had left a room quite unused. The next room would be full of gold and artifacts, just as Harry's vault was. This was, after all, the vault of the owners of the most powerful wand ever.

Harry opened the door and was disappointed to find...just another room. But there! Across the hall was a giant, magnificent set of doors— doors that actually resembled the front doors of Hogwarts. Harry knew that's where the real vault was. The cathedral was just for the junky spillover. Behind those doors would be the most amazing...

He pushed the doors open and there was...

Albus.

Only Albus, sitting on the cold gray floor against the gray stone wall. He sat with his legs drawn up, his glasses perched by the lenses on one of his bent knees. He fiddled absently with his gold planet pocket watch.

And then Harry understood why the vault was empty. The wand was for arrogant, greedy people. The vault would have belonged to distrusting people, for they themselves weren't trustworthy. Why would they store treasures in the vault that could be stolen by thieving, murderous, untrustworthy men? Why fill a vault for someone else? Why fill the vault for one's own murder?

Harry took off his cloak, and Albus looked up. He met Harry's eyes with a gaze that had no room for surprise. Albus looked all around the room, lost, and then he looked back at Harry. Harry wandered over slowly and sat next to Albus in the dust.

They were silent for a moment.

"Is this what you were keeping from me?" asked Albus. His deep voice was horse and quiet.

Harry took a breath. "Yes."

Albus's eyes slid shut and he nodded, his head eventually falling to rest against the wall. His auburn hair was so vibrant against the gray...

"Why?" he breathed.

"All of the reasons I should have," said Harry.

"And what reasons were those, Harry Potter?"

Harry was silent.

"That you knew to hide it says enough. And how did you come about knowing my innermost secrets? "

Harry hesitated. "I...picked them up over time, so to speak. The times were always—"

"What do you know of Gellert Grindelwald?" interrupted Albus.

"Ah...well, he wasn't around in my time. He was locked in Nurmengard..." As soon as Harry said that he regretted it. It wasn't the answer Albus deserved.

"You were friends," said Harry. "You followed him and helped him, and then one day he changed into a dark wizard. You avoided him as he got more and more powerful, but then one day you met him. You took the wand and locked him in his prison."

"We were lovers, Harry. I worshiped him, gave him everything he wanted. My intellect, my body, my heart, my soul. I was seventeen. I didn't know...I didn't know..." Harry reached out with a trembling hand and put it on Albus's back. "He didn't change. He was always the same, but I never noticed, Harry." His voice was becoming tighter. "If he had killed my sister, I could hate him. Instead, he turned me into a monster."

At that, Harry reached around to pull Albus closer. Albus allowed himself to lean against Harry's shoulder. Harry, for his part, was trying his best to non-verbally communicate, _no one would hold a monster this tightly, _but he let Albus talk.

"I think he always knew I would stop him. I knew there could have been traps in here for me from him. There could have been curses that would have killed me. There could have been letters, memories. Memories he knew I feared above all others. He would know what to put here to hurt me. He knew my weaknesses, magical and otherwise..." He sniffed and leaned into Harry. He gave a shuddering sob and then buried his head in Harry's shoulder. The two of them sat there silently and let the cold of the vault seep into them.

"I didn't think it would be empty," Albus whispered.

* * *

**A/N: Review Please! And...while I will not _actually _wait until I have a _certain number _of reviews, I would really like to hear from you before I post again to make sure I have tapped your amazing creative force and critic intelligence. =)**


	43. Ten Galleons

**A/N: This chapter was really difficult to write. It's a bit of a transitional chapter back to another plotline, so it took me a while to sort out the details. Nessi says she likes the dialog, though, so…Anyway, I hope it's worth the wait. **

**For those of you who were asking, Albus is in the **_**Wand **_**vault, not the stone. He was looking at the Stone one, but he only has the key for the Wand one so he went in there. I went back to the last few chapters and made that clearer, so thanks for asking. =)**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

_Last Chapter: The two of them sat there silently and let the cold of the vault seep into them._

_"I didn't think it would be empty," Albus whispered._

* * *

**Chapter 43**

Harry and Albus sat in the vault for what felt like a long time. Harry drew spirals in the dust with his fingers while watching Albus trace circles on the face of the watch. Finally, Albus clicked the watch open and stared at the planets. He sighed deeply and turned to Harry.

"It's time to go," he said with a wistful smile.

Harry didn't question him. They rose from their sitting positions and left the vault.

The walk out of the vault didn't seem nearly as long as the walk in. Perhaps this was because it was Harry's second time walking through, or maybe the vault just seemed less empty to Harry with Albus there, but Harry and Albus were back in the antechamber in no time. Once they were out of the vault, the sides of the wall slid together and slammed shut unkindly.

They stared at each other for a moment before Harry groaned. "_Why _the blazes did you go in there?"

"Ah…Because it was there," said Albus.

"And why—how are you here?"

"I…it occurred to me that you'd mentioned a vault after you appeared in my closet with Minerva…So I decided I should pay Gringotts a visit. I…didn't expect this, to say the least. The goblins were kind enough to give me a ride down. They weren't as generous with the ride back up."

"And how were you planning on getting out?"

Albus suddenly looked embarrassed. "I'm a fairly accomplished swimmer," he said, a faint pink tinge rising on his cheeks.

Harry looked at him blankly for a moment before burying his face in his hands again. "Albus, Albus…"

"As you may have guessed, I was somewhat distracted. The prospects were too…enticing for me to think of anything else."

"Enticing..."

"How did you find me?"

"I saw you go in," said Harry. "You probably guessed, because I'm here, that I have a…er…key."

Albus's eyes snapped to Harry's at once. "Which one?"

Harry was frightened by what he saw there in Albus's eyes: a mixture of hope, rage, and fear. "The cloak," said Harry.

"Oh, of course. You wore it…I remember…I should have known…" Albus slumped. Harry couldn't tell if Albus was disappointed or relieved, and neither could Albus, for that matter. "When did you find this?" He gestured around at the vaults.

"About two months ago. That night we were in your wardrobe was the first time I came here," said Harry

"And you knew about my wand."

Harry paused. "Yes."

"And…how did you gather than information?"

"Well, you sort of told me."

"Sort of?"

"Sort of."

"Did I also _sort of _tell you about Gellert and…my sister?" he asked in a deep voice, looking at Harry over the top of his glasses.

"Well, yeah. Sort of," admitted Harry.

"And what am I to gather?" asked Albus, agitated. "I _sort of _told you all of this—was it with my dying breath? Was there some sort threat?"

Harry suddenly became very aware of this conversation's similarity to other conversations he'd had with his Professor Dumbledore, who always gave the vaguest of answers. He couldn't help but chuckle at Albus for getting a taste of his own medicine. These were the sort of questions Harry would ask Albus to receive ambiguous replies. "Well, sort of, actually."

"And am I to understand that it was you who was threatening—Harry, _why_ are you laughing?"

"Sorry, I just—" Harry lost it again laughing. Relief was washing over him that Albus wasn't in danger, and Albus's agitation reminded him so much of himself that even biting his lip and thinking of dead pygmy-puffs couldn't stop him. He soon found himself pinned to a wall by hands and magic.

"You should be very glad I trust you," growled Albus.

Harry took that as a sign that Albus was irritated but knew Harry meant no harm. Albus let Harry down from the wall and straightened his own glasses. "I presume your vanishing cabinets are in the vault?" asked Albus. Harry nodded. "Shall we, then?"

Harry pulled out the cloak. "You have to get under this to go through," he said. Albus came nearer and Harry swept the cloak around the both of them. The door to Ignotus's vault vanished.

"Are you ready to see a real Peverell vault, Albus?"

"How quickly my anger fades," muttered Albus. "Yes."

Together they walked through the door and into the sitting room. Harry ducked out from under the cloak.

No sooner was his head visible than Minerva shrieked, "You bastard!"

"Orphan, actually," corrected Harry. Minerva flew at Harry and her fist connected with Harry's cheek.

Harry stumbled backwards away from Minerva, dragging the invisibility cloak off Albus. "Restrain yourself, Minerva," commanded Albus.

Harry slid down the wall behind him, massaging his jaw.

"Oh, Albus! I didn't see you, well, obviously, because…Um, so you're alright, I…"

"Hello, Minerva," said Albus, convinced that Minerva was done attacking Harry. "Harry didn't tell me you were here."

"Sorry, forgot," said Harry from the floor, wincing from the pain caused by speaking.

"So, er…you're ok, then? Nothing scary in the vault?" Minerva asked Albus.

Albus took a breath. "Nothing at all, actually," he said quietly.

"Oh! Well, there's loads in here! I can show you around!"

"Ah, I think I would like some quiet just now," said Albus with a small smile. Harry could hear the strain and fatigue in his voice.

Harry got up. "I could do with a cabinet myself. Minerva?"

Minerva pressed her lips together. "Alright."

Harry walked over to the now three cabinets that stood along one wall. "Albus, this will take you to your rooms. This one goes to Minerva's, and this one goes to mine."

"Thank you, Harry." Albus pulled the wardrobe door open. Harry dashed over to him before he could go inside.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked quietly, with a hand on the small of Albus's back.

Albus looked at Harry over his glasses for a moment. He looked away. "I'll be fine." He stepped into the cabinet and closed the door.

Harry turned back to Minerva.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"I should like to ask you the same thing," he replied glaring.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it—and don't worry about the other bit either," said Harry. For once, Minerva didn't press him. She was looking at the ground. Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. "It's just…are you still going to need my help now that _he _knows?"

Harry laughed. "If it were about _needing _help, you wouldn't be here, Minerva. I'm not going to replace you with him, if that's what you're worried about. I've fit three people under the cloak before—ahh, unless you fancied spending the time alone with me," he joked.

"I just thought you'd use this to spend more time alone with him, you know," she said seriously.

"Well, I won't."

"So you would like to spend more time alone with him in general?"

"What?"

"You know, under his desk?"

"_What?_"

Minerva laughed and then stepped into the cabinet that led to her room. "You know, I bet he'll have a fit when he sees in that room…Giddy and short of breath and all that."

"Albus? Nah. He'll take it with a calm, intellectual interest. Very cool. Superior."

"Ten galleons."

"Done."

Minerva shut the door behind her and vanished.

Harry rubbed his face and realized his jaw was still aching. He healed it, and, lost in thought, climbed into his own wardrobe and allowed himself to be whisked away.

Harry arrived back in the castle shortly after lunch. He conjured his own food and ate it alone in his tower. He spent the rest of the day there, drawing up brackets for the tournament and listening to the Beatles' White Album on repeat (always skipping the bits where Yoko sang). By the fourth time Blackbird came on, darkness had fallen and Harry was craving some fresh air. He threw his window open, and vanished his clothing a split second before changing into a bird and launching himself out the window.

In the month he'd been an animagus, Harry had perfected the technique of transforming quickly into and out of his form. He'd also learned to vanish his clothing a split second before transforming, and conjure it back before his modesty could be compromised.

Flying in his Red Kite form had become his stress relief the way his broom flights used to be. Though his bird form wouldn't carry him as fast as a lightening broom, he found he preferred his own wings. He had even more control, and there was nothing beneath him but air.

Sometimes, when he went into a particularly steep dive or was caught by a strong gust, he felt Fawkes itch to take over. Fawkes loved riding along with Harry in the Kite form, but Harry knew Fawkes craved real phoenix wings. He was never pushy or obvious about it, but it was more or less common sense, and if Harry couldn't give Fawkes his own body back, he'd work on getting one to share.

But for now, Harry just flew. He pitched and plummeted over the forest, and skimmed over the clouds to see the stars.

As he flew, he contemplated his morning. Albus knew about the vaults. This turned out to be more of a load off Harry's mind than a problem. Harry had been a little paranoid in thinking that Albus would immediately start grilling Harry about the Stone.

He cringed when he remembered his laughing outburst. When he thought about it, that was a might insensitive. He and Minerva both weren't exactly the best first-aid for Albus's re-opened wounds, and Harry didn't like the way he'd left things.

He spent hours out contemplating and exercising in the dark, his wings never tiring, but he knew he had to go back; he had to teach first years in the morning.

He swooped back to his tower, alighting on the window.

"Hello, Harry." Harry jumped and fell backwards out of the window in shock. He caught himself just above the ground and flew back up to the window to find Albus looking out worriedly. Albus backed off and Harry landed on the sill, transformed back and simultaneously clothed himself, and crouched in the window in human form in his pajamas.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," said Albus.

"_If_ you startled me?"

"I'm sorry for startling you."

Harry sniffed. "Apology accepted. Er…What's the time?" Harry asked, suddenly wondering why Albus was in his tower so late in the evening.

Albus pulled out the pocket watch. "Half past nine. Come in?"

Harry laughed. "Thanks." He hopped down from the window frame and crossed into the room, passing Albus. "So," he said turning to face Albus. "What brings you to my…abode, Albus?" He took a step closer to Albus. "You are Albus, right?" Harry poked him a few times in the chest to pick up a touch of his aura. It was Albus.

Albus allowed himself to be poked in the chest. "Yes. I am Albus. If you need proof…" Albus grabbed the wrist of the hand Harry was using to poke him. Harry was suddenly flooded with the aura forced through the touch.

His eyes rolled back into his head. "Yah-ha-ha-ha-ho-yow, ok, ok, ok, it's you, I get it," He hyperventilated. Albus pulled away, smirking slightly. "You know, I figured that out from the, you know," Harry mimed poking.

"Yes, well, I wanted to make sure," said Albus. "My nose has been broken enough times. Also, I love expanding my vocabulary."

"Sorry?"

"Yah-ha-ha-ha-ho-yow," said Albus. "Is that an incantation?"

Harry turned pink. "So, what brings you here?"

"Oh, well, I…Wanted to…"

"Yes?" asked Harry.

"Well, I was wondering if your offer...the vault…"

"You want to see it?" asked Harry.

"Well, it's late and…I'd understand if…And it's your own…Well…and Minerva…"

"Albus, I've wanted to show you that vault for months. If you want to see it, I will take you right now. To the vault, that is."

Albus beamed.

"Are you sure you're ready to see it?" asked Harry. Albus nodded. "In that case," Harry summed his cloak with a snap of his fingers. "Step under my cloak."

Albus and Harry vanished under the invisibility cloak and Harry guided Albus into the cabinet. They opened the door back up again, stepped into the vault's living room, and pulled off the cloak.

"Welcome, again, to the vault of Ignotus Peverell," said Harry. "In that desk there are letters from all the previous owners. The furniture was put here by William Stuart, the Magical Advisor of King George III in 1811. The three wardrobes, here, as you know go back to Hogwarts. The three smaller cabinets there have more letters."

"Goodness. I'd guess there are some magnificently interesting people in there. A living room full of history! May I look through some of it? I bet there would be some people—"

"Albus…You haven't asked about the door, there." Harry grinned.

"Which door where? Oh, no. I hadn't seen it. Dear Harry, do tell me what's behind that door, there."

Harry's grin grew larger. "Oh, I think not, _dear _Albus. It's best to see—that is, if you think you're ready."

"Is it more letters?"

Harry chuckled and led Albus by the hand.

"Are you ready?" he repeated.

"Yes! Yes, already!"

Harry laughed at his impatience. "Then let me show you…" He turned the handle with deliberate slowness and pulled the door open. "Monsieur…"

Albus stepped through and Harry followed after. Albus stood stock still. His mouth fell open with a gasp as he surveyed the room. Harry smiled.

"Have you met Rumbleroar?" Harry pointed to the suit of armor and its accompanying lion armor.

"Sweet Merlin, is that real?"

"Not to belittle your wonder, but that's a silly question given our…location. Yes, it's real, as is Gryffindor's suit of armor, but I thought you'd like the books better. It turns out, Merlin wrote a lot of journals, but they were never published due to the fact that they were mostly written backwards. Apparently this one," Harry slotted out a leather-bound book from a shelf right next to him, "…is about wandless magic, if you're interested in trying to make it out."

Albus took one, two, three breaths and then toppled onto Harry in a dead faint.

"Damn, I owe Minerva ten galleons. Fearless leader of the light, indeed," Harry chuckled as he gently lowered Albus to the ground thinking he should just conjure up a museum during the upcoming tournament duel to incapacitate Albus.

After Harry'd spent about two or three minutes making Albus more and more comfortable on the ground (he'd considered conjuring a mattress, but thought that would be a bit too weird), Albus made a little noise and opened his eyes.

"Albus?" Harry sat down beside him.

"Goodness, what happened?"

"Well, there was this troll."

"Really?"

"No. You saw the inside of the vault and passed out."

"Ah, yes. Now I remember. Could it be stated for the record that it was a sort of euphoric loss of consciousness rather than…crippling fear?"

"Don't worry. The record states 'Albus Dumbledore swoons into the arms of his dashing friend.' There's nothing about…crippling fear."

"Oh, well now, maybe we could change that to, 'Albus Dumbledore was overcome by his passion for knowledge in the face of the most important find of the millennium—'"

Harry snorted, but then looked seriously at Albus. "Please don't tell anyone about this, by the way. I wasn't keeping it quiet just for your sake. I don't want to be famous again."

"Not to mention, the Potters might become alarmed if their vault was suddenly public knowledge. Do they know about it?"

"I hadn't thought about it," said Harry. "I suppose they could come in here at any moment…"

"Have you found a letter from your grandparents?"

"Not yet, but we're only about a quarter way through the letters. Sometimes they skip generations, too."

"It seems to me that this vault was never supposed to be made public. It seems like a family secret, and I am grateful to you for sharing it with me."

"Yeah, well, I really should have let you swim back out." They both laughed. "Well, you know, the best way to get out is on the back of a dragon," said Harry. "They've all gone blind so they won't try to eat you or anything once you're on their backs."

"You speak from experience?"

Harry winked. "You never know. Now, I am going to cleverly distract you from my theoretical life of crime by this _spectacular _vault. Come have a look at the chart Minerva and I are making."

And thus they spent their evening.

* * *

**Next Chapter: The tournament approaches and Harry has a breakthrough on his phoenix project.**

**A/N: Next chapter soon! Review, please!**


	44. The Tournament

**A/N: New plot, new-hoo-hoo plot. This has been beta'd by Nessi. Thank you, Nessi.  
So, I just wanted to let you know, this really **_**is**_** a HP/AD. The HP/AD part is coming soon. I promise. It's going to happen, plot and timeline wise, when I always meant for it to happen; I just didn't think it would take over 135 thousand words to get there. Hey, I've been much better about passage of time lately. =)**

**And on that note, enjoy the chapter!**

**

* * *

**

The next two weeks passed in a blur. Harry taught every day from eight in the morning until lunch, then he let students work in his classroom for lightly supervised study sessions during lunch, and then he taught from twelve-thirty until three-thirty. After classes, he had what felt like a quarter of the student body on his doorstep every afternoon. He'd given up assigning homework entirely because he didn't have time to grade it, and he knew everyone was working on Defense Against the Dark Arts outside of class anyway.

During the weekend in the middle of the two weeks, Harry finished the brackets. He deliberated for some time about whether to publish them. If he published them, he worried that students would try to sabotage their first opponents in the week before the duel. Publishing them would give students the opportunities to study up on how to defeat their specific opponents, but Harry wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing. In the end, he decided not to publish the student brackets, but he did publish the faculty brackets.

There were eight faculty members entered in the tournament, so there'd be three rounds. Harry'd set it up so that he and Albus were on opposite ends of the bracket so that they wouldn't duel until the championship. In keeping with tournament tradition, he stacked the strongest duelers with the weakest to make for the most interesting semi-finals and final. Harry was dueling Sprout in the primary, and would then duel the winner of the Slughorn-Minerva duel for the semi-finals. Albus was dueling Kettelburn in the primary, and would duel the winner of the Flitwick-Binns duel in the semi-finals.

At the beginning of the two weeks Albus helped Harry a lot with the tutoring sessions, but after the middle weekend when Harry published the faculty brackets, Albus suddenly started coming up with a wide range of excuses not to help. The sessions were becoming so hectic that Harry tried enlisting Minerva's help on a few occasions, but she was proving just as illusive. Harry started to wonder if they just didn't want to help until Thursday afternoon when he decided he wanted a ten minute break from students. He apparated out of his office and up to the seventh floor corridor. _I need a place to hide from my students. I need a place to hide from my students. I need a place with no students._

He entered the room of requirement and froze. Beams of light were shooting all over the place as two long-haired figures spun and slashed at each other with their wands. The taller of the two hit the other with a lucky shot and had her on the ground in an instant.

"Good. Better," panted Albus offering Minerva a hand up. "But he's going to be a lot faster. He'll feel any of that magic as soon as it leaves your wand. You need to practice the other methods I taught you."

She groaned. "I'm going to look like an idiot against him."

"If it's going to bother you so much, you could just lose to Horace and save yourself the trouble."

"Is that bad sportsman ship I hear, Albus?"

"Yes."

"Well," she stopped and laughed. "Save the bad sportsman ship for your duel with him. I think you'll need it."

Harry interrupted. "And who's this 'him' you're discussing?"

Minerva and Albus looked 'round at Harry. "Oh, Crockett, you egotistical—Albus, I thought you said nobody would come here—and I thought you said he was busy."

"Hello, Harry," said Albus sheepishly.

"I've been wondering where you two kept going," said Harry.

"How long have you been standing there, Crockett?"

Harry grinned back. "Long enough."

"We were just practicing," said Minerva.

"Minerva wanted to practice before her duel with —"

"Slughorn!" she interrupted loudly.

"Excellent," said Harry grinning at Albus. "Well, I was just…looking for a moment's peace, but I'll be off. –Do you think the kids will riot if I take the weekend off? It is the last weekend before the tournament but…"

"I think you've done enough, Harry," said Albus.

"Well, in that case, do you two want to go to the vault this weekend?"

"Er…" Albus and Minerva looked at each other.

"Sorry, I have—"

"I'm going—"

"—lots of things—"

"—to be busy—"

"—to do and I think—"

"—the entire time and—"

"—I won't have time." They both finished in unison.

Harry looked at them and frowned. He popped his lips and scratched his nose. "Ok." He ruffled his hair. "I'll just…work on the phoenix thing."

* * *

The school assembled in the Great Hall on Monday morning, the last week of term, and the first day of the tournament. The students chattered excitedly, waiting for their bracket assignments. Harry and Minerva were waiting anxiously for Albus to finish his scones. By the time Albus started on his fourth scone, Harry began to suspect that Albus had sensed their impatience and was drawing it out as long as possible.

"These are truly magnificent," he said to Harry as he delicately spread clotted cream and raspberry jam in equal measure onto his scone. "It takes true magic to make the perfect scone. I've been recommending recipes to the house elves, and I think this is my favorite."

"Albus…" growled Minerva with her fists clenched on the table.

"Yes, love?" he asked, still quite focused on his scone.

She blushed and leaned back. "Nothing."

Finally he licked the last crumbs and bits of jam off his long, white fingers and blotted his mouth with a large purple napkin. Every eye in the room was on him as he rose from his chair, and he didn't have to even clear his throat to gain complete silence.

"Good morning! I can see you've all been looking forward to today. Contestants are looking forward to their duels…I know Professor Crockett has been looking forward to his first free time in weeks…" The students and teachers laughed. "And what all of you are looking forward to is the unveiling, or unrolling as it were, of the student bracket! On this wall…" he clicked his fingers and a large purple banner with gold stitching unrolled itself down the wall on the side of the hall closest to the Gryffindors. While everyone watched it unroll, he turned and winked at Harry.

"Show off," mouthed Harry.

"On this wall is the faculty bracket that you've already seen, and now, by each pair, is a time and day that indicates when the duel will take place. For instance, a duel between Professor Kettleburn and I will occur at nine-o-clock today.

"As you know, there are no classes this week, and thus you are expected to be present for all of the dueling. Student duels may occur simultaneously, so there will be plenty to watch. Lunch is at noon every day. The duels will take place in the Quidditch field. It is cold outside so dress warmly, but the field is currently protected from severe weather. Professor Crockett, is there anything you would like to add?"

Harry stood. "I'm really proud of the way you've all been preparing, and I would like to remind you that good sportsmanship is very important. I hope that everyone treats their opponents with respect and takes their wins or losses with grace. I know you all are here to have a good time. That being said, I will know if you cheat, and I will know if you attempt to sabotage any of the other contestants. Don't. We will have no injuries during this tournament." Harry nodded to Albus that he was finished.

"Thank you, Professor Crockett. Ladies and gentlemen, your brackets." He snapped his fingers and a large banner on the Slytherin side of the hall unrolled itself. The room erupted into conversation. "Good luck to you all!" called Albus over the din, "And I shall see you in twenty minutes on the field!"

Twenty minutes later, the whole school sat in the stands save Albus and Professor Kettleburn. The giant screen was up, displaying the names "Dumbledore" and "Kettleburn" and those two men were standing ten paces apart on the field as the whole school stared down at them.

"Less than ten minutes," said Minerva, sitting down next to Harry.

"Nah. He'll drag it out to make it look more even."

"Ten galleons?"

"Yep."

"See," Minerva said as the two men bowed to each other, "He's not going to do any of that gaudy lion tamer stuff he did with you. It would just look like showing off with Kettleburn."

"And in what way was that not showing off when he did it with me?"

"You were both flashy, so it didn't matter."

Harry laughed nervously. The board counted down to zero and the duelers started dueling.

Kettleburn had fast reflexes and strong shield charms from years of working with magical creatures, friendly and unfriendly. He crouched low to the ground like an animal reducing the size of his target. He ran fast, rolled, and jumped high, but magically he was no match for Albus. After a good five minutes of magical exchange, Albus sent a spell that split into seven beams of light and all converged on Kettleburn from different sides. The spell immobilized him, and Albus quickly disarmed him with an "_Expelliarmus!"_ according to the screen.

Seconds had started ticking down…fifty…thirty…fifeen…five….a bell rang at zero, and the stands erupted into cheers. Albus freed Kettleburn and gestured to him. Kettleburn took an awkward bow, and Albus followed with a sweeping curtsey.

"Seven and a half," said Minerva. "That's twenty galleons you owe me now." Harry glared at her.

"The first round of student dueling will begin in fifteen minutes," boomed Albus over the stadium. "You will notice that the brackets are also displayed here in the stadium," he gestured to the brackets which now hung on either side of the large screen. On the faculty bracket, "Dumbledore" now also appeared in a semi-final duel happening on Wednesday. His opponent spot remained blank.

"Good luck!" he said, before quieting his voice again.

All of the faculty converged on the field and started setting up for the student duels. Four student duels were to occur at once, so the faculty split up the field into four arenas separated by wide paths. The arenas were shielded from each other, and each arena had its own score board, complete with spell detection. Students would be allowed to stand on the path around a particular arena if they wanted to look closer, and anyone in the stands could see all four sections. Two teachers refereed each duel.

The first-year primaries were first. Hooch and Andromeda Black, Amos Diggory and Ted Tonks, Gideon and Trelawney, and Fabian and Umbridge were paired. Harry was monitoring Hooch and Andromeda with Flitwick. Andromeda's magic was more sophisticated and powerful—sometimes more powerful than she meant it to be— but Hooch was quite aggressive and a very good shot. In the end, Hooch's agility and aim won out. She hit Andromeda with a decently strong full body bind and won the duel.

By the time Hooch and Andromeda were done, only Diggory and Tonks were still dueling. They were almost evenly matched, but Tonks was a little faster. Tonks hit Diggory with a jelly-legs jinx, and took his wand as he was flailing around. Tonks ran around the arena for a minute, evading the twitching Diggory by foot as the clock ran down.

The first years were all finished by ten-thirty. Their semi-finals would be the next day, Tuesday, between Gideon and Hooch, and Fabian and Tonks. Next up were the fourth years. Harry supervised a duel between Pius Thicknesse and Dorcas Meadowes, which Dorcas won. She, Harry remembered, was one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix who were killed by Voldemort in person. The thought sickened him, but he could see why Voldemort had taken the trouble; Dorcas Meadows was an excellent witch.

It was eleven-fifteen by the time the fourth years were done. Next, all of the students retreated back up into the stands for a duel between Flitwick and Binns. The teachers removed all of the arena dividers and small score boards and took their seats. Harry and Minerva sat on either side of Albus, as usual.

Minerva leaned forward to talk to Harry across Albus. "I'll put ten galleons on Flitwick."

Harry leaned forward too. "That he loses? Oh, aye. I'll bet he wins."

"No, you can have ten galleons if Binns wins," said Minerva.

"So, I'll take ten galleons if Flitwick wins, and ten galleons if Binns wins, and you can have ten for a tie?"

"Have you two been betting on the duels?" asked Albus, finding himself quite sandwiched between Harry and Minerva.

"Not the students, Albus. Goodness, what do you take us for?" asked Minerva.

Harry laughed.

"What did you bet on my duel?"

"Crockett said at least ten minutes, and I said you'd win in fewer. I won."

"Really, Harry? I thought you of all people would bet that I am capable of incapacitating—"

"Yes, Albus, I am fully aware that you are capable of cuffing the best of us to an invisible wall within seconds and bewitching us to believe we'd rather be nowhere else. Fully capable. I _expected_ that you'd draw it out for…appearances and sportsmanship."

"Who got cuffed to an invisible wall?" smirked Minerva.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Did I disappoint you?" challenged Albus.

Harry laughed. "No, no. You did draw it out…I just didn't realize ten minutes were so _long_."

The countdown had reached zero and Flitwick and Binns begun their duel.

The two had entirely different styles. Flitwick immediately conjured a small metal disk to stand on. The disk lifted him in the air, and Flitwick zoomed around the stadium and shot spells from on high. Binns, on the other hand, stood exactly where he was quite stiffly, and fired off spells as if he was conducting a sinister orchestra.

It turned out, Binns' style was dignified to a fault; Flitwick used Binns' immobility to his advantage. While Binns kept out a lot of Flitwick's spells with a shield, Flitwick embedded charms in the grass all around the shield, and then charmed the grass to grow into the area where his spells couldn't penetrate. Soon, Binns' spells slowed. He gave an almighty yawn, and collapsed onto the ground. The clock started ticking, and Flitwick landed. The shield had fallen and Flitwick immobilized the sleeping Binns and took his wand. Thirty…fifteen…five…The bell rang and the stadium erupted into cheers. Flitwick nodded to the audience and bent to rouse Binns.

Instead of dismissing the students with an announcement, Albus pointed his wand at the screen so that the words "_Enjoy your lunch! Please be back by 1:00_" appeared there. The students slowly started leaving the stadium to go back up to the castle for lunch.

Harry noticed that Flitwick's name now appeared in the next line of the bracket right above Albus's. This signaled that Albus and Flitwick would duel together on Wednesday in the semifinals. The other faculty semi-final duel would be decided by the duels in the afternoon.

"Shall we?" asked Albus. Minerva and Harry stood up and accompanied Albus back to the Great Hall for lunch. The hall was already full, and the students were louder than normal. Harry and Minerva took their seats on either side of Albus and began eating lunch. Harry was eating a salad and thinking about plants in general, and that led him to think of Pomona Sprout. Harry turned to his right to talk to her, but the chair to his right was empty. Pomona Sprout usually sat there, but she was missing. Harry stood up and looked up and down the table, but she was nowhere to be seen, nor was she anywhere in the hall.

"Have you seen Pomona?" Harry asked Albus.

"No."

"Aren't you dueling her after lunch?" asked Minerva from across Albus.

"Yes," replied Harry slowly.

"Sabotage!" she hissed with false venom. Harry glared at her. He reached into the auror bag he carried everywhere (full of his shrunken objects and artifacts) and pulled out the Marauder's map. He unfolded it, tapped it with his wand, and quietly muttered, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_ Ink immediately flooded the page, showing the details of the castle and grounds.

The rest of the castle was empty, except for the ghosts, and the grounds were clear. After a few minutes of looking, Harry finally spotted Pomona Sprout in the locker rooms by the stadium. Harry frowned.

"Sorry, I'll see you later," he told Albus and Minerva.

"Hey, Crockett—Make it fewer than ten minutes, ok? Albus, I bet ten galleons Crockett beats her in under ten?"

"I am not going to gamble with you, Minerva. Goodbye, Harry." Harry laughed and dashed out of the hall.

Harry pushed open the door of the locker rooms and poked his head in. "Pomona?"

Harry heard a wet sniff and then, "Ah…Um…" Someone coughed. "Who is it?"

"It's Harry," said Harry.

"Oh."

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

"Um…I'm over here." She sniffed.

Harry walked farther into the room and rounded a corner to where the benches and lockers were. Pomona sprout sat on a bench and was quickly stuffing a wad of tissue into her pocket.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" asked Harry.

She sniffed. "No." Harry sat down next to her.

"So!" he said, leaning back against the wall. "Looks like we're dueling next." Pomona gave a sob and buried her hands.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"H-how am I s-supposed to d-duel you when even P-professor Dumbledore couldn't beat you?"

"I—"

"Do you know how h-hard it is to be taking classes one day and t-teaching the next? I have students who are older than I am!"

"Pomona, I—"

"I don't get to live with my f-friends anymore, a-and—"

"Pomona, it's not too late to enter you into the student bracket."

"The others in my year, or…who, who _were_ in my year…they say I think I'm b-better than them. That I don't d-deserve to t-teach. If I l-lost a duel to one of them, it would p-prove them right."

"Albus Dumbledore did not hire you because he thought you were a better dueler than your peers. In fact, I am sure that there are students who could beat you in a duel, but dueling is about as relevant to your job as playing chess. Albus Dumbledore hired you because you are not only the best herbologist in the entire school, faculty and staff included, but you are a magnificent teacher. Few of your peers can claim that skill, whereas I know for a fact that you will teach for many years and inspire hundreds of students. Besides, I know you have friends that don't say that about you. I overheard Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Ogden talking about how well you teach the class and how impressed they were."

"R-really? Algie said that?"

"Hmm…yep. And you know, some of the students might be mean to you, but they're just jealous. You got the job you wanted before even leaving school—and between you and me, Mr. Crouch is _never _going to make Minister of Magic."

Pomona cracked a smile.

"So what do you want to do," asked Harry.

Pomona's smile vanished. "I can't be in the student bracket," she said. "But I'm going to be humiliated in the teacher bracket. Students are already disrespectful in my classes…it's so hard to k-keep them in order sometimes. What if my students make _fun _of me? How could I teach like that?"

"I'm not going to _humiliate_ you," said Harry.

"Why couldn't I have dueled Binns? I could have won that."

"You know, I think I'll tell him you said that," Harry joked.

"Oh, he wouldn't care," she laughed. "I don't think he really notices that other people exist. Have you ever managed to have a proper conversation with him?"

"Yeah, once. He was so shocked that someone was asking him a question…" Harry and Pomona both burst into laughter. "But then if you'd beaten him, you'd have had to duel Albus. Who would you rather duel, Albus or I?"

"Well…you, I guess. Professor Dumbledore is so intimidating."

"What, more intimidating than me?" Harry looked offended.

"Sorry, yes. I never know what he's thinking."

"And you know what I'm thinking, then?"

"Something like _'oh no, how am I going to duel Pomona without playing easy or making her look silly?'_"

Harry laughed. "Alright. You got me." He was actually feeling quite horrible. He hadn't thought much about the faculty's feelings as he'd seeded them best against worst. That was how tournaments worked!

"Everyone expects you to win in just a minute or two," continued Pomona. "I don't care about losing to you—you and Professor Dumbledore are the best duelers I've ever seen…but, agh, Crouch is going to be insufferable. And the students…" she sniffed.

"Well, I'll make sure to let you get a few good punches in."

"Don't let me win," she pleaded. "They'd know it was fake if I won, but…if you could make it last longer than five minutes that would be nice…"

"Don't worry; I can do that… " He trailed off. "Actually," Harry's eyes lit up, "I can do a lot better than that. Do you want to put on a show?"

"Um…what kind of show?"

Harry grinned. The stadium above them began to thunder as students started pouring into their seats.

"Here…switch wands."

"What do I do with this?" she asked once they'd switched.

"Don't break it."

"What else?"

Harry shrugged. "Use your imagination."

* * *

**Next Chapter: Harry and Pomona duel, and Minerva and Slughorn duel…and maybe some other things.**

**A/N: I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter—if it makes sense and all that before I publish the next chapter, **

**so review please!**


	45. Monday Afternoon

**A/N: Hello! Thanks for the reviews. This chapter has been beta'd by Nessi. Thanks, Nessi. I'm also going to pat myself on the back for publishing three chapters in five days. Pat. Pat. Ok, done. Um, right. So! Dueling. Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

_Last Chapter:_

"_Here…switch wands," said Harry._

"_What do I do with this?" Pomona asked once they'd switched._

"_Don't break it."_

"_What else?"_

_Harry shrugged. "Use your imagination."_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 45**

Harry and Pomona Sprout walked out onto the field to tremendous applause. Pomona turned lobster red, but she held her head high and took her place ten paces from Harry. She gripped Harry's wand at her side with confidence.

Harry had explained to her that with his wand, she could imagine something happening, wave the wand, and make it so. He didn't explain why it would work or what kind of work _he'd _have to do to make it work, but she agreed and was excited to try it out.

The numbers started counting down, and then zero signaled the start of the duel. Pomona immediately waved Harry's wand and Harry felt the most curious tug at his magic…It was like he was a gun and all Pomona had to do was point and pull the trigger. The difference was, of course, that Harry could have chosen not to fire.

Harry didn't have much time to contemplate the sensation, however, because he was suddenly surrounded on all sides by a very large crop of Devil's Snare. The day was conveniently cloudy, so the evil plant was perfectly comfortable while it started winding up Harry's legs and pelvis and torso…

He had to reach out with the magic in his own wand to Pomona's wand in his hand so that he could cast with it. Wandless really would have been easier than routing his magic through Pomona's wand, but that would have been cheap, given the circumstances.

Harry began conjuring fire and sunlight out of the wand, making the plant shrivel back. All the while, he messed with the score board so that it said that Pomona was casting with the wand in her hand rather than Harry doing the work for both of them.

It took Harry a few minutes to get completely detangled from the Snare; he kept finding cutlets that had wormed their ways around his ancles and started growing late. Meanwhile, Pomona was not just standing and watching. She was conjuring Venomous Tentacula and picking off its sharp leaves to send at Harry in a flock.

"Bugger!" cried Harry as one of the leaves bit him or something. He shielded himself and advanced on Pomona. Only then did he realize that he was no longer walking on grass…he was wading through flowers, knee deep. He sniffed and yawned, finding his pace slowing. Before he knew it, he was on his knees blinking heavily as the perfume of the flowers washed over him.

Harry didn't notice, but the stands were completely silent as he sunk to his knees, but when he fell flat on his face in a dead-sleep, the stadium gasped in unison.

The clock started ticking down from 60 seconds.

Pomona quickly rushed over to Harry. The clock was at 45. "Come on…don't make me win…They'll know it was fake…" The clock was at 30. "Oh, wake up…" she muttered over him. Fifteen seconds. Finally, she waved the wand, and Harry was suddenly quite awake. The flowers shrunk back into the ground.

Harry nodded at Pomona and Pomona nodded back, signaling she was done. Harry got up dramatically and waved Pomona's wand. A menacing steel box appeared around Pomona, blocking her from the crowd's view. He flicked the wand again and his own wand appeared in his hand. The clock was down to 45…30…5…the bell rang at zero signaling Harry's victory, and Harry vanished the box around Pomona.

The crowd cheered, and Harry took a bow. Harry gestured for Pomona to take a bow and as soon as she bent, the entire stadium doubled its volume. Pomona came out of her bow so quickly in shock that she nearly fell backwards. She turned bright red again and smiled, embarrassed. The crowd just to louder.

"Professor Crockett?" she whispered. Harry could still hear it over the earsplitting cheers.

"Yes, Pomona?"

"I don't deserve all of this. You did the magic," she said. "I couldn't."

"That was your imagination, your reflexes, your technique."

"But I couldn't have conjured those things…or made the poppies grow."

"You're forgetting that the climate in the stadium is different. The frost wouldn't affect them in here."

"Not because of the climate! I don't think I could have made them grow anywhere."

Harry smiled. "Well, alright, probably not before today, but…" Harry looked thoughtfully up at the stands. "I bet you could do it on your own now."

"What makes you say that?"

Harry shrugged. "Because I think it's true. I'm good with that kind of thing," he said. "Try it later. –I bet there are going to be a few people who ask you for a reenactment, anyway. Don't get strangled."

She grinned up at him, and before Harry knew it she'd pulled him into a warm hug.

"Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

After Harry and Pomona's duel were the primaries for the N.E.W.T. students. Harry had put the sixth and seventh years in the same bracket because only eight had signed up from the two classes combined. The pairs were Rufus Scrimgeour and Tiberius Ogden, Li Chang and Alphard Black, Barty Crouch with Aiko Edwards, and Algie Longbottom with Eileen Prince.

Eileen Prince, a seventh year, was the only contestant in the N.E.W.T. bracket that hadn't taken Harry's Defense against the Dark Arts class. As a result, Harry had never spoken to her, but he was curious about Severus Snape's mother so he asked around a bit. According to the other faculty, Prince took Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, and Transfiguration. She was also known for being the captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.

Harry was now chaperoning Eileen Prince's duel with Algie Longbottom. Longbottom was a far superior dueler to the point where, with good intentions, he started trying to mess around to drag the duel out longer so that Prince didn't look so bad. What actually happened was that Longbottom ended up giving a false impression; he looked like he was playing with Prince and came off as a little sadistic. Prince became so nervous that the clock ran down because she was shaking too much to lift her wand. Longbottom went over to Prince after, very confused, and asked if she was ok, but she gave him a horrified glare and fled the arena. She reminded Harry very much of Neville in Snape's presence, only Harry was fairly certain that Neville's fear of Snape was not caused by some similar misunderstanding.

Overall, the N.E.W.T. primaries took a while and were the most intense student duels yet. The duel between Rufus Scrimgeour and Tiberius Ogden went on for over a half hour. Finally, Ogden's reactions started slowing down and Scrimgeour got in a few lucky shots, pinning Ogden to the ground and disarming him. After the duel, Ogden got up and cheerily shook Scrimgeour's hand as the spectating students cheered.

The faculty descended onto the field again to clear the arenas. Minerva and Slughorn were up next.

For most of the faculty duels (and student duels, for that matter), Harry could make pretty good guesses about who would win. For a duel between Minerva and Slughorn, though, he had no idea who would win. Minerva was fast, powerful, innovative, and aggressive. Slughorn was resourceful, clever, sneaky, and more experienced than Minerva.

All Harry knew was that whoever won that duel would be dueling Harry on Wednesday in the faculty semi-final. He thought it might be fun to duel Minerva, but on the other, he didn't want to create any tension in their friendship by absolutely creaming her— he sure as hell wasn't going to pull the same kind of stunt with Minerva as he had with Pomona. By the time he got up into the stands and took his seat, he found himself hoping Slughorn would win.

"Ten galleons on Minerva?" asked a deep voice from above Harry. Harry looked to see Albus smiling serenely.

Harry laughed. "No, thank you," he said as Albus sat next to him. "I've lost enough money because of Minerva." They sat in silence as the clock counted to zero and the duel started. Minerva and Slughorn started sending spells at each other.

"So you think Minerva's going to win?" Harry asked.

"She's been practicing."

Minerva did look quite fierce. Her hair was slowly falling out of its bun, wisp by wisp as she danced. Slughorn was making her work, but he wasn't having the easiest of times either. His sweat gleamed on his forehead and, to the amusement of any particularly attentive spectators, one of the buttons on his vest had popped off.

Minerva's style focused mainly on conjuring objects and transfiguring them as necessary. It was working pretty well; five minutes in, she'd managed to start the clock on Slughorn twice, but he'd broken free both times.

She conjured a flock of birds to distract Slughorn and then conjured a cage around him. After a few moments of struggling with Minerva's magic, when the clock was down to about five seconds, Slughorn managed to dissolve the cage and start sending spells at Minerva again.

Minerva was ready with a new attack. She transfigured the grass around Slughorn's feet into sinking-sand. Slughorn didn't notice he was sinking until the mud started seeping into his socks, but by then he was already stuck. He looked down and started trying to get himself out.

Minerva took the opportunity to fix her hair, which was in her face, completely obscuring her vision.

That was her mistake.

Slughorn looked up from the mud and sent a spell that hit Minerva squarely in the chest. Minerva looked surprised for a moment, but then she shrunk down, disappearing into a pile of her clothes. Harry was a little confused until he read the score board: _Slughorn: Forced animagus transformation_.

Harry squinted back down at the pile of clothes and saw that it was moving, and soon a tabby cat emerged.

By that time, Slughorn had freed himself from the quicksand and was walking over to Minerva with his wand outstretched. Clearly, he was keeping the spell on her, making her unable to transform back. Minerva hissed as he approached, and raised her claws threateningly.

Once he reached her, Slughorn crouched down, hiding Minerva from the sight of the stands. When Slughorn stood back up, Minerva was no longer hissing. It looked like she was rolling around…

"I wonder how he's kept that spell up for so long," commented Harry to Albus. "It's difficult enough to keep someone _out _of their animagus forms, but keeping them as animals for extended periods of time is almost impossible. Maybe he's cast something else to keep her from changing back."

Albus hummed. "The score board says he hasn't cast anything since the forced animagus spell."

Harry frowned. "One sec…" Harry closed his eyes and reached out with his magic down to the field…but no one was casting anything. Slughorn was no longer casting the forced animagus spell. There should have been nothing keeping Minerva from changing back.

Harry opened his eyes. "Maybe she's worried about her clothes…? But she knows how to change back and put clothes on fast enough that no one would see."

"Hmm," hummed Albus again. Harry looked back down on the field to see that another cat had darted out from somewhere in the stands to join Minerva. The students had noticed and were muttering and pointing.

"Oy. Remind me to make an announcement about not bringing animals to the duels," said Harry. The words had barely left his mouth when two more cats streaked across from the opposite side of the field to join Minerva. As soon as they reached her, they started rolling around on the ground, just like Minerva.

"Did you find anything?" asked Albus, frowning.

"What? Oh, no. No magic at all," said Harry.

Another two cats appeared on the field, both making a beeline for the group already there.

"No magic…" muttered Albus. "Try checking their…physiology, if you don't mind? All of the cats."

Harry closed his eyes again and reached out with his body aura only to encounter over a half a dozen cats in a dazed euphoria.

"It's like they've been drugged," said Harry, opening his eyes.

Albus stood up rapidly and pointed his wand at the score board just before the clock hit zero. The board now flashed "_Time Out"_ in large letters.

"Come with me," said Albus. Harry stood up and joined him, a little confused.

They hurried down onto the field. Slughorn met them half way across. "What's the big idea, stopping the clock right before I was about to win!"

Harry and Albus didn't stop walking. "I'm sorry, Horace. The other animals on the field pose a hazard. They will have to be removed before the duel continues." They quickly passed Horace who's legs were too short to keep up. Albus's wand was drawn and he was already muttering incantations as they approached the pile of cats.

"Yes…" muttered Albus. "It's what I thought…Conjure a tent, please Harry? Quickly, please?"

Harry conjured a tent around himself, Albus and the cats right before Slughorn caught up, leaving him on the outside.

Albus wordlessly put silencing charms around the tent. "The cats are reacting to a strengthened form of catnip oil."

"Catnip?" repeated Harry incredulously.

Albus nodded. "Catnip. I'm going to vanish it. It is likely Minerva will change back. Will you help her, please?" Harry nodded. "On three, then. One, two, three."

Albus waved his wand and the cats stopped rolling around quite so much, and a second later Minerva started to transform. Harry instantly robed her and caught her as she stumbled into him.

"Minerva, are you alright?" asked Harry, trying to keep her upright.

She was mumbling. "Where's the…"

"Minerva, you are experiencing a false euphoria. Harry is going to help you."

"I am? Oh. Yeah. One moment." Harry closed his eyes and felt around a bit in Minerva's bloodstream before isolating the catnip and vanishing it entirely from her system.

Minerva immediately gasped and collapsed even further. Harry lowered her to the ground.

"Breathe. You'll be fine," said Harry.

"What…did that…bastard do…?" she asked between heavy breaths.

"Language, Minerva," sighed Albus. "He forced your animagus form and then exposed you to a highly concentrated form of catnip oil."

"Catnip?" she panted.

"Catnip," said Albus. "Technically, it is against the rules to use the aid of anything but a wand during these duels, so rightfully Horace should be disqualified from the tournament, but I think in this case I shall bend the rules and allow him continue."

Minerva gasped in outrage. "What are you _thinking, _Albus? He _drugged _me, and in front of the whole school! He deserves to be disqualified! No! He deserves to be—oh" she stopped and her eyes went huge. "Oh…OH! Albus! You—"

Albus smiled. "Good luck, Minerva." And with that, he vanished the tent and started walking back to the stands.

"Thank you!" she called, a scheming grin on her face, but Albus was already addressing the students and didn't respond.

"A time-out has been called to remove the animals from the arena," said Albus, his voice echoing across the stadium. "Un-conjured and un-transfigured animals pose a hazard to the duelers. Will the owners of these animals please meet me at the bottom of the southern stairs to retrieve them? Thank you. The duel will resume in two minutes."

He quieted his voice again as Horace approached. "I am terribly sorry about that, Horace. Nothing external should interfere with the duel. I'm sure you understand," said Albus, his eyes dancing.

"Quite, quite," said Slughorn offhand, looking rather put-out.

"It could have happened at any time, you know, a horde of animals rushing onto the field. It's just the sport, I suppose! Good luck with the rest, Horace."

"Yes…yes…just the sport…" Slughorn muttered as Harry and Albus walked briskly back to the stands, a pack of cats following after.

After several embarrassed students came to pick up their cats ("I left him in my dorm, honest!"), the duel resumed.

If Minerva was feisty before, she was terrifying when she started dueling again. With four quick spells she sent Slughorn flying across the stadium only to land him harmlessly and send him flying back the other way. She approached him as he scrabbled on the ground to pick up his wand, but she kicked it away from him. She loomed over him for a moment, and Harry could see her talking but couldn't hear. She hit him with a spell, and then talked a bit more, twiddling her wand. Then, finally, she waved her wand and, with an almighty squeak, Horace Slughorn morphed into a giant, rubber, slug-shaped…cat toy.

The clock started counting down and Harry knew who he'd be dueling on Wednesday.

* * *

**Next Chapter: What happens when Minerva and Harry duel? What has Albus been teaching her…?**

**A/N: Review, please! I'll update faster! **


	46. Crockett and McGonagall

**A/N: Hello! This chapter has been beta'd by Nessi. Thanks, Nessi.  
I didn't get very many reviews on the last chapter, and I rely on reviews to see if I need to clarify things in the next chapter…so because there weren't many reviews, there might be some not-as-clear things in this chapter that could have been clearer. If that's clear. So. I'd love a review. Thanks. Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

On Tuesday morning, the second day of the dueling tournament, the second years, third years, and fifth years had their primaries. By lunch, all of the primaries had been completed and the semi-final brackets were filled.

After lunch, the semi-finals started. For the first round, there were two pairs of first years and two pairs of fourth years dueling on the field. Harry chaperoned a first year duel between Hooch and Gideon, which Gideon won relatively quickly.

When all of the first and fourth year semi-final duels were done, the faculty rearranged the stadium so that there were only two dueling arenas rather than four for the N.E.W.T. semi-finals. Algie Longbottom was dueling Bartie Crouch and Rufus Scrimgeour wad dueling Alphard Black.

Meanwhile, Harry'd gotten a break from chaperoning and decided to walk back and forth between the two duels. Most of the students were down on the field crammed around the two arenas cheering, so Harry soon got tired of elbowing his way around and retired to the empty stands to watch.

He'd only been sitting a few minutes before Albus slid into his row and took a seat on the bench next to Harry. Harry smiled in greeting. They hadn't had a chance to talk in a while.

"Are you enjoying the tournament so far?" asked Harry.

"I must say I am," said Albus. "It is a pleasant alternative to the usual pre-holiday slump, though it has been a lot of work for you."

"Well, I think all of us have been working."

"Well, I suppose," smiled Albus. "I did notice that the schedule for Thursday looks relatively empty. Would you care to join me for tea in the afternoon?"

"Yeah, thanks! That would be great. You aren't going to try to sabotage me before we duel, are you?"

"You assume you'll win against Minerva."

Harry laughed. "You assume you'll win against Flitwick!"

"Minerva's been practicing," said Albus. Harry shivered slightly. He didn't know if it was worry about the duel or just Albus's tone.

"Should I be worried?"

Albus shrugged and extracted a small bag from his robes. Harry recognized it. "Would you like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean?" asked Albus.

"You still eat those?" asked Harry.

"One is never too old for candy, Harry. In fact, I find myself more partial to sweets every day."

"Yes, but…" Harry sighed. "Never mind. I'd love one, thanks." Albus poured Harry and himself each a small hand full. They sat for a while watching and commenting on the duels, occasionally mentioning a flavor of bean they'd eaten until Albus made a gagging noise.

"Are you alright?" Harry turned to see Albus was still breathing but had scrunched up his face. He swallowed laboriously.

Harry immediately knew what was wrong and conjured a lemon drop. "Here, suck on this." Albus quickly took the proffered lemon drop and nodded his thanks, his eyes watering slightly.

"Let me guess…Vomit flavored?" Harry asked sympathetically.

Albus cleared his throat. "How did you know?"

"I am very clever," said Harry.

"Do you want the rest of these?" Albus asked, offering Harry the bag. "I think I've lost my taste for them."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, thanks," he said, thinking he'd give them out in class or something.

They sat quietly for a moment. "Did you _conjure_ this lemon drop? It's divine."

"Yeah," said Harry.

"You broke Gamp's Law _and _made it better than the ones from the box," said Albus, impressed.

"Well, the secret ingredient is lo—" Harry blushed, coughed and stopped talking.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. Er…I was just saying maybe it has to do with packaging…"

Albus looked at Harry with his piercing blue eyes for a moment and then let him go. "Yes, perhaps."

They sat quietly for a while. Scrimgeour won his duel against Black, so the whole school was gathered around Crouch and Longbottom. Crouch was obviously getting impatient and frustrated, while Longbottom remained cool. Most of the students were cheering for Longbottom.

"I saw what you did yesterday," said Albus after a while.

Harry turned red. "Ah…I have no idea what you are talking about."

Albus smiled. "With Pomona."

"Ah-hah-hah, yes," said Harry nervously. "…Am I disqualified, _sir_?"

"I think setting Minerva on you will be suitable punishment. Goodness knows it worked on dear Horace."

"Yeah…"

They were quiet for a moment and Harry thought Albus had let the subject drop. He hadn't.

"What I meant was thank you."

"Oh!" said Harry, surprised and relieved. "For—I—what?"

"I think she needed that."

Harry didn't have anything to say so he just smiled gratefully back at Albus.

Just then, the students below erupted in cheers as the bell signaled the end of a duel. Longbottom had successfully pinned Crouch under a conjured object he'd been transfiguring periodically to suit his needs; it now resembled a giant metal spork. As the bell rang, Longbottom vanished the pinning device and offered Crouch a hand up which Crouch ignored.

"Well, that's all for the afternoon," said Harry. "Do you want to—"

"Albus! Are you ready to go? Oh! Er… hello, Crockett."

"Yes, Minerva. I'm coming. Sorry, Harry. I'm afraid I promised Minerva some time this afternoon to—"

"Go over lesson plans!" interrupted Minerva.

"Lesson plans for what? Break's in three days and there are no classes," said Harry.

"Er…ah…I'm preparing early so that I can relax over the holidays," invented Minerva wildly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Albus as he headed off to join Minerva. Harry soon found himself alone in an emptying stadium, left to trudge through the snow back to the castle by himself.

* * *

Harry had a hard time getting to sleep that night, and when he woke up early on Wednesday morning his tower was freezing. Outside was a flat, glaring cloud-cover that made his head pound. It was with his shoulders slouched up to his ears that he headed down to breakfast in the Great Hall. He bent over his hot oatmeal, allowing it to relax his un-rested muscles only to twitch at the sight of Minerva walking into the hall with a smirk on her face and Albus trailing behind her.

"What have you been showing her?" Harry asked quietly when Albus sat down next to him.

"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," he replied. "Essentials, you know."

"I bet," said Harry tersely before returning to his oatmeal (which he had to re-warm with a gesture) and contemplating his day to come. The second years and fifth years were having their semi-finals, and then the third years had their semi-finals and then Harry and Minerva were dueling. There he stopped and took off his glasses to massage his temples. He was almost positive that he would beat Minerva, but his stomach was knotting forebodingly.

He shook his head and made himself continue going through his schedule. After his duel with Minerva was lunch, and then Albus and Flitwick would duel. Harry had been looking forward to watching Albus and Flitwick duel. Harry knew Flitwick had not shown all of his formidable power during the duel with Binns. Flitwick was so powerful that he might even pose a challenge to Albus.

Last were the class finals for the first, second, third, and fourth years. Harry was especially curious to see what would happen when Fabian and Gideon dueled. He had no idea who would win.

He was jolted out of his brooding when Albus stood up and dismissed the students to go to the stadium. Harry sighed and stood up.

"Are you alright?" asked Albus.

"Just didn't sleep," muttered Harry.

The stadium was again divided into four arenas so that two fifth year pairs and two second year pairs could duel at once. Harry was glad of his chaperoning responsibilities; supervising took his mind off his foul mood and the upcoming duel with Minerva. Unfortunately, he was not required to chaperone the third years in the next round. He sat high up in the stadium and watched, his stomach inexplicably uncomfortably.

"Did you see my duel at all, sir?"

Harry turned to see Alastor Moody coming down his row.

"I'm afraid I didn't," said Harry. "I was chaperoning Mr. Bones and Ms. Eliot."

"Who won?"

"Mr. Bones managed a freezing charm. I was quite impressed."

Moody nodded.

"So how did your duel go?" asked Harry.

Moody wrinkled his nose. "It was with Mundungus Fletcher. He was defaulted into the semi-finals because the fifth year bracket had an odd number. He cheated but Binns didn't notice and Flitwick was too far away. I won anyway."

Harry laughed. "What did he do to cheat?"

"Tried dumping some kind of potion on me. I vanished it before it touched me, though. It's like you said, sir, constant vigilance."

"Well, I can't prove anything about the potion," said Harry, "but I'll keep an eye on Mr. Fletcher. Thanks for telling me. Congratulations on your victory."

"Thank you, sir, but that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh," said Harry surprised. "What was it then?"

"I just wondered how you did it, sir."

"Sorry?"

"With Pomona, I mean."

"Ah…and what exactly do you think that I did?" asked Harry.

"Well, clearly you did the magic for her," said Moody.

"Does anybody else think so?"

"No, sir, but I know."

"Did you talk to anyone about it?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Please don't."

"So you did do it, sir?"

Harry sighed and nodded. "I suppose you know why I did it?"

Moody squinted at him shrewdly. "You wanted to make her look good for her students. Some of my classmates bother her because she's only seventeen. That's rubbish, of course. She teaches just fine," he said gruffly. "But how did you do it? I saw you switch wands."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "You are very observant, Mr. Moody." Moody didn't smile at the praise. He just stared back at Harry.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but is your wand the reason why you're so powerful?"

Harry could have chosen to be offended, but he didn't. He didn't really know how to answer the question, though. Yes, his power source was in the wand, but it wasn't because of the wand itself that Harry was powerful. Instead of answering, he pulled out his wand and handed it to Moody.

"Cast something," Harry said.

Moody flicked the wand and Harry could tell he was trying to wordlessly conjure a knife. Harry didn't conjure it, so nothing happened.

"A knife, Mr. Moody?"

"Will it work if I conjure a bouquet, sir?" asked Moody sarcastically.

"Try," said Harry.

Moody flicked his wand, trying to conjure a bunch of roses. Instead, a knife appeared on the bench in front of them. Moody glared up at Harry and Harry grinned back.

"Oh, sorry. You wanted roses that time," said Harry. Roses started popping out of the wand individually without any prompting from Moody. "Does that answer your question, Mr. Moody?"

"No, but thanks, sir."

Harry smiled.

"Can you teach me to do that, sir?"

"To do what, Mr. Moody?"

"To cast spells with my wand when it's somewhere else," he said.

Harry frowned. Nobody could do magic with a wand out of their hand, really. Harry could because his magic was _in _the wand. Some people could cast a _lumos_ or something with their wand a few feet away, but the magic was tied to the body so it couldn't be too far. It would be easier to do wandless magic than casting from a distant wand.

"Wandless magic would be easier than casting with your wand from far away," he said. "But wandless magic is very difficult too."

"How come you can do it, sir?"

"That," said Harry, "is a long story."

"So, is wandless magic like the kind of magic kids do when they're scared?"

"Yes, but to be useful it has to be controlled. Controlling it and doing it on command is the most difficult part. That's what wands are for. Wands all have powerful magical cores that allow the wand to control the magic, so a wandless caster has to be very powerful to control magic without a wand."

Moody squinted at Harry again, putting the pieces together.

"What's the grand prize?" he asked suddenly.

"Grand prize?"

"For winning the tournament."

"Oh." Harry had completely forgotten about all of the prizes.

"If I win, will you teach me wandless magic, sir?"

"Er…I can try," said Harry. "If you win."

The bell below rang to signal the end of the last third year's semifinal duel. Harry's stomach lurched.

"Good luck in your duel with Professor McGonagall, sir," said Moody.

"Thanks," said Harry weakly before heading down to the field.

Rearranging the field took too little time for Harry's comfort. Harry knew he would win the duel against Minerva, but he was still inexplicably dreading it.

Harry hadn't spoken to Minerva in days—since her duel with Slughorn, actually. They'd both been very busy, so when they came face to face in the middle of the field Harry felt like he hadn't seen Minerva in weeks rather than two days.

_She's been practicing._

The bell rang and they both jumped into action. Harry blocked five spells from Minerva and Minerva blocked a few from Harry. Testing the waters, Harry forced a body bind through her shield, but Minerva broke it within two seconds and was back to shooting spells at Harry.

There was a very large crash and Harry suddenly found himself looking out from inside a giant bird cage. He rolled his eyes and Minerva smirked and walked calmly towards the cage. Harry tried vanishing it, but Minerva had managed to put some heavy protections around it and in it. He grabbed the bars, and his hands got stuck. He stuck his magic into it only to find magic around the magic in a deep web that fascinated him.

Minerva touched his stuck hand lightly, and that's when Harry felt it…Something clumsy and tentative slip in to mix with his body aura, but his attention was too caught by the protections on the cage to deal with the aura. Getting out of the cage was more important. Getting his hands free was more important than Minerva feeling him up with her aura.

Wrong.

When he found himself shrinking into his bird form was when he realized his mistake. The aura that had mixed with his was forcing him into his animagus shape. He started fighting against the other aura, Minerva's aura, but Minerva was too strong. Harry's body aura was just a bird's aura and couldn't compare with the strength of Minerva's human aura. The clock started counting down.

Shit.

He couldn't do magic, but he wasn't stuck to the bars anymore and was small enough to slip through the space between the bars of the cage without having to vanish it. He flew out, and the clock stopped counting. This surprised Minerva. Harry could still feel Minerva through the connection restraining his re-transformation, but he couldn't use her aura to climb back to humanity.

Apparently she'd been practicing.

With Albus.

Even in Harry's emotionally repressed state as a bird, he felt his guts squirm with jealousy—which Minerva felt through the connection.

Minerva started sending spells at Harry as he flew. Impediment. Body bind. Invisible nets. She missed, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time before one of the spells hit him. He scrabbled at her aura, trying to use it to change back, but she was stronger and unwilling so it didn't work.

Harry's flight pattern became more erratic to avoid Minerva's spells. He flew up and dove low, but there was nowhere really to hide. He could have hidden somewhere in the stands, but that would have been lame. As a spell flew by his left wing, though, he glanced quickly over the stands, weighing the option. There he spotted Albus.

Albus!

He might be able to use Albus's aura to change back, as long as Albus wasn't fighting him off. He doubted Albus would _help _him, but there was a possibility that Albus wouldn't specifically prevent him from changing.

Harry flew over and landed on Albus's knee, startling the students and teachers sitting around them.

"Hello, Harry," said Albus, hiding any surprise he had. He patted Harry on the shoulder.

That was what Harry was waiting for. He used the direct physical contact of human hand to feathered shoulder to surge a connection between his bird aura and Albus's aura. His aura became super erratic from the contact with Albus's, but Harry knew Albus wouldn't notice the difference; his aura was always super erratic around Albus.

He continued to wrap himself into Albus's aura until he started to get flashes of vision out of Albus's eyes and "_bird!"_ from under his finger tips. From what he felt, Albus was too surprised to react to Harry in any particular way—but Minerva was surprised too. Wrapping himself in Albus's aura also meant pulling Minerva with him. Minerva's distraction combined with Harry's grip on Albus's aura allowed Harry to slowly dreg himself out of his animagus form.

Thankfully, Albus realized what was happening and clothed Harry (who had forgotten in his panic) when he was half way through transformation. Harry found himself fully clothed in violent purple and sitting squarely in Albus Dumbledore's lap.

"Hello…" he said, momentarily disoriented.

"Well, hello," said Albus, his face inches from Harry's.

"I think practice was an understatement," breathed Harry. "I think conspiracy would be closer."

Albus smiled and his eyes twinkled up at Harry and Harry's heart beat faster and his breath became short and he noticed how sweaty his hands were and noticed—noticed _Minerva and Albus were still embedded in his body aura_! He withdrew it faster than a tape measure, sprung off of Albus's lap, and tore off down the stands and back into the arena.

Once back on the grass, Harry snapped his fingers and his wand appeared in his hand. He started stalking across the grass. His eyes locked with Minerva's and neither of them looked away, even when they were standing a foot apart, nose to nose.

"So you want to do this the hard way?" asked Harry.

"You're in love with Albus."

Harry blanched and felt felt his face flush with shock and embarrassment, but he didn't back away.

"So are you," he replied stubbornly.

She glared, and Harry saw a flash of his teacher, Professor McGonagall. "So?"

Harry sniffed and glared.

Minerva's face softened and she looked away, defeated. "He already knows about me," she said quietly. "I could tell him for you, if you want." She seemed at a loss for things to say.

In an instant, Minerva was on the ground and Harry was on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head.

"That's ok, thanks," said Harry, his own expression softening. He loosened her wand from her grasp and threw it away.

"How long?" she asked, not even bothering to struggle. "How long have you…"

Harry laughed. "I have no idea. How about you?"

She snorted bitterly and rolled her eyes away from Harry's. "Forever."

"Oh." She looked back up to meet Harry's stare. As Harry looked down into Minerva's eyes, he felt closer to her than he had when their auras were connected. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be," she said quickly. "You have better things to do than feel sorry for me."

"What, like feeling sorry for myself?"

"You shouldn't feel sorry for yourself."

"And why not?"

Minerva bit her lip and opened her mouth to answer, but the bell rang, signaling the end of the duel, and the crowd erupted into applause.

Minerva laughed as Harry helped her up. "They have no idea what they're applauding for."

"I know," smirked Harry. He took a bow.

"So what _did _happen when you two were invisible with the yellow paint and—"

"_That,"_ said Harry, putting a hand on Minerva's back so that she bent into a bow, "is none of your business."

* * *

**Next Chapter: While Albus duels Flitwick, Harry and Minerva have to cope with sharing an attraction…**

**A/N: Hello. If there's anything at **_**all **_**that you'd like clearer, or answered, please ask in a review. –And if you ask me to answer a review directly, I will answer! I do that. Anyway, reviews will make me think more and publish faster. Review please!**


	47. Finals

**A/N: SORRY. SORRY. It's been a month and a half. I know. I started college. All of my older friends were like "you'll have so much time in college!" Well, it's true, but the kind of time I have is all spent on social life (read: spending time with new boyfriend). Also, this chapter…took me a really long time cause it's somewhat transitional and I got tired of writing minor duels. I have no idea when I'll post again, but there's cool plot coming. This chapter was beta'd by Bea. Thanks, Bea. Um. Right. Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

Harry and Minerva glanced at each other from either side of Albus as Albus ate lunch in oblivion. Harry was still trying to figure out how Minerva had managed to manipulate her aura well enough to force Harry into his animagus form. She was a bright witch, maybe as bright as Hermione, but not a bloody magical-powerhouse-prodigy! Harry finally concluded that she'd gotten a sense of the aura technique from when she and Harry had learned to become animagi, and that Albus had taught her how to use it. Albus! Harry looked down at his plate and fumed.

And now Minerva knew Harry was in love with Albus. How could she not? Harry's aura had gone from irritated to swooning when he'd mingled with Albus's, and Minerva was right there to feel it. He should have just used a student or something. A student probably wouldn't have even noticed the aura. Damn it.

And there was Albus sitting next to Harry, merrily making a model of Hogwarts out of his lunch food like nothing was different. Harry paused for a moment to look in awe at the food-Hogwarts, wondering if Albus was using magic to make it more realistic. He shook himself and went back to his brooding.

Could Albus know? If he hadn't figured it out before, he wouldn't have reason to figure it out during the duel, unless Minerva's shock had given him away. But he could know anyway!

Something inside Harry asked, _would that really be so terrible?_

_Yes!_ was Harry's immediate answer. Because then he'd _know!_

_But why would that be so bad?_ asked that little part. Harry thought about it.

Well, what happens when people confess their romantic feelings? Pity, answered Harry.

_Pity or a relationship._

Well, yes. A relationship…what would a relationship with Albus look like? Matching purple robes? Harry hid a snort of laughter. Lemon scones for breakfast in bed? They certainly would be wearing matching purple robes in bed…

Harry choked on his food at his own thoughts and glanced sharply to his left to make sure Albus wasn't…reading his mind or something. Albus was licking the peanut butter off the end of a celery stick before adding the celery to his Hogwarts model made out of food. Harry looked up to see that Minerva had also been staring at Albus. She met Harry's eyes and they both blushed and looked away quickly.

_Bloody nightmare_.

But what about that relationship? Harry liked lemon scones…and had begun to like purple…and certainly liked Albus. What would it be like to live alongside Albus Dumbledore? Would it be worth it to risk a little pity for the chance to be with Albus? The chance to live through his life with him?

But as Harry envisioned the future, he knew why not. In Harry's time, there was no old man with messy gray hair and green eyes and glasses alongside Albus Dumbledore. That's why not. It just wouldn't happen.

_Damn. Time travel really takes the hope out, _Harry thought.

"Am I to understand that you two aren't speaking?" asked Albus, creating a flight of stairs out of chips.

Harry and Minerva both jumped in surprise, having both been deep in thought about Albus.

"What? No. See? Hi, Crockett!"

"Hi, Minerva!"

"How's your lunch!"

"Great! How's yours!"

"Great! Are you looking forward to the—"

"I see…" said Albus. Harry and Minerva fell silent, holding their breath. "I must say, your duel was riveting."

"Ohyourreallythinkso?" they both asked, loudly jumping on the topic.

"Minerva was great—"

"Crockett deserved the win—"

"She really was practicing—"

"He was very resourceful using your aura thing—"

They both fell silent, horrified at the mention of auras. They looked at each other for a beat before jumping in even more loudly to change the topic.

"It was really quite fun!"

"Would love a re-match!"

"I'd love to too!"

They both stopped when Albus raised his hands to plug his ears. He put his hands back down when he saw that Harry and Minerva were finished.

"The only reason I asked was that you, Harry, have yet to reprimand me for helping Minerva practice for the duel, and you, Minerva, have yet to tell me to stop playing with my food."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Well, stop playing with your food."

"I quite like it, actually," said Harry. "The bit there with the celery columns is nice. And I wasn't going to tell you off for the duel after you helped me…well…didn't hinder me winning."

"That was quite interesting, actually," said Albus.

"Goodness. _Isn't it time to go?"_ asked Harry, desperate.

"I do believe it is," said Albus with mild surprise. "I must go prepare for my duel with Fillius. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck," chanted Minerva and Harry flatly. Albus walked away, his food castle disintegrating as he got farther away.

Minerva buried her face in her hands. "Damn it."

Harry laughed. "I've never heard you swear."

"I don't, but it felt like a bloody good time to start."

* * *

Harry and Minerva sat alone together at the back of the stadium. The area was pretty empty so they could talk unbothered while they watched Albus and Flitwick duel.

"So you don't think he knows about…"

"No," said Harry. "I don't think so, but it's Albus. Who knows?"

Down on the field, Flitwick finished chanting something and a circle of symbols appeared, glowing in the grass around Albus. The timer started counting down and Albus started to chant to free himself.

"Why don't you tell him? I mean, at least you're…"

"I'm what?"

"Male."

Harry snorted. "And would you have told him about you before you knew he didn't fancy women?"

"No, but…"

"No but nothing. I'm not doing it."

Albus had gotten out of the ring of symbols and was building a prison of ice around Flitwick. The timer got down to thirty before the ice melted in a rush of water and Flitwick was free.

"Is it because of me?" asked Minerva suddenly.

"What?"

"Are you not telling him because I..."

"No! No, of course not. It's not because of you. I mean…er…"

Minerva raised her eyebrows.

"Well, see, I would think of that…because of you…but didn't because…I'm not going to anyway…because of…other things…"

"Right…" said Minerva slowly, a smirk lifting the corners of her mouth.

They both looked back down to the duel just in time to see Albus cast a disillusionment charm on himself and disappear. Harry could still see him; he'd been able to see through Albus's disillusionment charms since that day they played quidditch while Harry was drugged.

"Where's he gone?" asked Minerva.

"He's walking around…towards the right side of the field. Towards Flitwick."

"You can see him?"

"Yeah."

Minerva nodded. "Not bad. What's he doing now?"

"Well, Flitwick's trying to counter the charm…But Albus…he's…it looks like he's walking up close behind Flitwick…And now he's standing right behind him, really close."

"He did that to me a few months ago while I was teaching. I thought I was going to have a heart attack."

Harry bit his lip. "God, I love it when he does that. He has no idea what it does…"

Minerva burst out laughing. "You really have it bad, don't you?"

"Yeah…" Harry sighed dramatically, dreamily leaning on his elbow and staring off into space. He held the pose for three seconds before joining Minerva in a roaring bout of laughter.

Using the element of surprise, Albus managed to immobilize and disarm Flitwick. He made himself visible once more and the timer started counting down. Harry and Minerva joined the students as they counted down from ten, and the duel ended.

Harry was officially going to duel Albus on Friday.

* * *

The rest of Wednesday afternoon was very charged. The finals for the first, second, third, and fourth years were happening one at a time on the field, starting with the fourth years. Dorcas Meadows won the final for the fourth years, taking the class championship title. Harry thought she fully deserved it.

Next were the third-year finals between Dedalus Diggle and Artemis Arma, which Arma won. Cornelius Fudge and Edgar Bones dueled for the second year final, and, after a very intense duel, Bones won.

Finally, Gideon and Fabian Prewett entered the arena. They would have been indistinguishable from each other except that someone had sewn a large red F on the back of Fabian's school robes, and an equally large red G on the back of Gideon's.

Harry frowned. Something was off.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" asked Albus softly from Harry's left. So perceptive.

"Something seems a little off about this duel, but…nothing dangerous. I'll…tell you if I figure anything out."

Minerva was down on the field with Flitwick supervising the duel, so Harry and Albus sat in the stands with a cushion of empty seats around them.

"Can you tell them apart?" asked Harry.

Albus nodded.

"Without the letters?"

"Yes."

Harry squinted. "How?"

"Mr. Fabian Prewett holds his chin a fraction higher."

"Really?"

"Really."

"How did you notice that?"

Albus smiled, but didn't respond.

The whistle blew to start the duel and Fabian and Gideon assumed fighting stances. As soon as they started casting, Harry knew what the matter was. He groaned. "Oh."

"Yes?"

"If I tell you what's wrong, will you promise to let them finish the duel before you disqualify them? I want to see this."

"I promise."

"Really?"

"I trust your judgment," said Albus.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Well, they've both taken Felix Felecius. I can't think why, though. Maybe they both thought it would give them an edge over the other—but that doesn't seem right…they always work together…"

Just then, the twins vanished from view as billows of gray smoke enveloped a portion of the field.

"Oh, Merlin…" said Harry rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"And where would they have gotten Felix Felecius? Surely they wouldn't have bought or brewed it."

"I gave it to them— and Albus," Harry smirked, "please don't call me Shirley."

"Betty, then," said Albus with a slight twitch of his lip. "Why did you give them Felix Felecius?"

"_Betty?_" Harry rolled his eyes. "They won it, _Al_."

"How did they win it?"

"I had a bunch of Felix and I said I'd give some to anyone who could knock me over. They knocked me over."

Albus frowned. "You challenged students to attack you?"

"Yes. What are you, my body guard?" Harry asked defensively.

"Just a long lost pal, I think."

"Have you been listening to my records?"

"No. Why?"

Harry squinted at Albus for a moment. "I'll show you later. Anyway, I did warn them that I'd know if they used the Felix."

"Did you tell them that its use in competitions is illegal?"

"Yeah."

Albus hummed and fell silent. The thick pillow of smoke stopped growing and began to dissipate in the light winter wind.

"I have a theory," said Albus as the smoke thinned.

"And what is that?"

Two blurred, obscured figures could almost be seen through the black smoke now.

"I believe you were right; they aren't competing. They're working together…"

The figures began to solidify and become clearer.

"To do what?" asked Harry.

"What do they normally do together?"

"Well…Make jokes…Make trouble, I suppose, and…" Harry trailed off as he finally got a good glimpse of the wizards in the smoke. He did a double take, and then looked quickly to Albus, and then looked back down on the field.

"And make fun of their professors, apparently," finished Albus with a light, amused smile.

A perfect Harry Potter look-alike stood on the field in too-tight red robes with a big red "G." A perfect Albus Dumbledore doppelganger stood at his side in matching red, with a great red "F" on his back.

"Blimey…I didn't know they could brew a polyjuice potion…"

"Goodness, am I really that much taller than you?" Albus asked. Students were starting to stare at Harry and Albus, looking between them and their doubles on the field.

"I didn't think so…Oh bollix. He's got the scar too. Hold on…"

Harry focused down on the Gideon who currently looked exactly like Harry (minus a few inches of height and plus one lightning bolt scar). Harry quickly hid Gideon's scar and made him taller, praying that Gideon would pass off the sudden growth as a delayed effect of the potion.

"No adjustments for me?" asked Albus.

"You already look perfect."

"Thank you, Harry," said Albus quietly.

"That's not what I— er—"

Harry was cut off as his own voice boomed across the stadium, magnified magically. "Good afternoon, students! I hope your—er—tournament is good."

"As your headmaster," said Fabian as Albus, "I wanted to tell you—er—that you're all doing really good but that Gid—er…Mr. Prewett and—"

"The other Mr. Prewett—" interrupted Gideon.

"Just did some very…um…good magic that means they win."

"Yeah. They win by default, according to the rules that _I_, Professor Crockett, made for this duel. And the tournament."

Some of the crowd laughed nervously, catching on to what was happening. More people were staring at Harry and Albus.

"In fact, Professor Dumbledore is going to give us—"

"He means he, er…Professor Dumbledore here," said Gideon as Harry gesturing to Fabian as Albus, "is going to give _them—_Fabian and Gideon Prewett, that is, their prizes now."

That was when Minerva emerged from the remaining smoke. The twins caught sight of her and the looks of horror on Fabian and Gideon's polyjuiced faces were enough to make the stands erupt with laughter. Fabian and Gideon looked at each other and took off across the field towards one set of goal posts. Minerva followed, raising her wand.

"Do you think we should help her?" asked Harry.

"No. Let's let her have her fun."

Just then, Gideon-Harry and Fabian-Albus each pulled a vial out of their robes, uncorked the vials, and chugged them. They both began to shrink. Gideon's hair lengthened and Fabian's got smoother and darker. Very soon, they were identical again. They were identical Minervas in red robes. There were now three Minervas on the pitch. Harry snorted with laughter and Albus looked like he was chewing on his cheeks to keep from smiling.

Just then, the real Minerva caught up to the twins and immobilized them with an angry slash of her wand. She then turned her wand on her own throat and her voice boomed across the stadium to the rest of the students.

"You are dismissed until tomorrow. Have a good evening," she said curtly before rounding back on the twins. The laughing audience started filing out.

Harry sighed. "It might be the luck potion, but something is telling me I should go and talk her out of punishing them too badly…"

Albus chuckled and they stood up. "If they are so good at transforming themselves, you should assign them detention working on your phoenix project…"

"I can't tell if you're being helpful or making fun of me."

"I assure you I am helpful. Always."

The rest of the afternoon went quickly. Harry and Albus had an argument about who should make the announcement to the school about Gideon and Fabian being disqualified. Harry lost and had to talk to the school at breakfast Thursday morning. During his serious announcement about the Prewett twins' disqualification Harry made the mistake of glancing at Albus and had to fake a violent sneeze to hide his sudden laughter from the hall.

The twins, of course, were in no way discouraged or ashamed. They strutted around afterwards, heroes of their class. Harry was glad of it. He loved their humorous spirit and only made the announcement and agreed to punish them out of obligation.

The first duel on Thursday morning was the final for the fifth years. The duel was over very quickly; Alastor Moody took out his opponent easily and without stalling. The last final was the N.E.W.T. students. Algie Longbottom cheerily strode down onto the field and met a scowling Rufus Scrimgeour for a handshake. The duel started and Longbottom's cheery smile was slowly replaced with a look of fierce concentration to match Scrimgeour's. The day was a little warmer than the first few days of the tournament, so the two duelists were soon sweating under their thick robes and their brows shone in the crisp morning light.

The duelists had very different styles. Longbottom used his creativity and widespread knowledge to aid him, and Scrimgeour used his reflexes and power. Longbottom looked like he was having some measure of fun, smiling in appreciation when he or Scrimgeour did an interesting piece of magic whereas Scrimgeour's face did not change from its concentrated mask.

They sent spells at each other for a few minutes until Longbottom managed to build a shield strong enough to keep Scrimgeour at bay for a while. Harry couldn't tell quite what Longbottom was trying to do, but it looked interesting. He was wrapping himself in magic, using relatively simple spells in very creative ways. He was right in the middle of a longer incantation when Scrimgeour broke through his shield. Longbottom had no choice but to try to finish the incantation, as a partially completed piece of magic could be disastrous. Unfortunately, this left Longbottom relatively helpless and Scrimgeour started sending freezing charms.

Scrimgeour, on the other hand, obviously had not considered the disastrous effects of a partially completed incantation before the freezing charm hit Longbottom. Longbottom froze and was effectively silenced. Nothing happened for a moment, but then a ripple of energy blasted out from Longbottom's wand, distorting the air like a ripple on a pond. The wave slammed into Scrimgeour and sent him flying twenty feet backwards to sprawl unconscious on the grass.

Somehow, despite Scrimgeour's lack of consciousness, Longbottom remained trapped and silenced. The timer was counting down on both duelists, but Longbottom's wore down first. The bell rang and Slughorn and Binns ran onto the field to free Longbottom and wake Scrimgeour up. The audience applauded and Longbottom cheerily went to shake Scrimgeour's hand in defeat.

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Albus stood in the row behind him.

"Tea at three?" he asked. Harry hadn't seen Albus since breakfast.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Thanks for reminding me." As if he'd forgotten.

Albus nodded and swept away again, soon to be lost in the crowd of departing students.

"Right…" muttered Harry.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Harry and Albus have an epiphany while having tea!**

**A/N: Right. And back to my boyf—uh…writing my physics paper. Review, please!**


	48. Tea Time

**A/N: Hey! It's been an age! College is busy, and significant others are SO time consuming. (Dear Significant other, if you ever read this far in my fic, know that it is your fault that there isn't much more of it.) Anyway, all of my final projects are due this week and I needed to work. When I have a half a chapter sitting on my desktop, I can't work, so I had to finish this. Sorry it's so short. I'm sure I'll write a ton over my winter break (which is soon).**

**This has been semi-beta'd by Bea. Thanks, Bea. It's only been semi-beta'd because my main beta is simulating earthquakes in Souther California, two of my betas have been cyrogenically frozen, and Bea has several essays to write. **

**Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a California girl mother of a toddler stuck in rainy Washington. I too am a California girl stuck in a cold place. I'm in New England, though, so I win the coldness award (well, actually…Nessi and Mirage etc. win for coldness as they are in Canada). You, on the other hand, win the really-awesome-and-nice-and-spirit-lifting-review-award. Anyway, embermorningstarr, this is for you. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

At a calculated one minute after three, Harry knocked on the door to the headmaster's study. The heavy door swung open immediately. "Come in," said Albus, getting up from behind his desk.

"Hi," said Harry. Harry followed Albus over to the tea table and armchairs.

"How's your day been?" asked Albus. He gestured Harry into one of the chairs and sat down in the other.

"Fine actually, I guess. I just…I just took a nap."

"Goodness, really? Nothing is better than a good nap, and no one is more deserving than you right now; you must have been exhausted."

"I'm still quite groggy—I was so disoriented when I woke up that left all of my…things in my room before I came up here. I'm surprised I remembered to put my glasses back on. Some defense teacher I am, hmm?"

"I promise to protect you should the situation arise."

"Why, thank you, Albus."

They chatted for a half hour about the tournament, discussing some of the student duels and commenting on some of the more interesting magic. Finally Albus seemed to remember the pretence of the visit, tea, and wandlessly summoned a teapot. He made it hover over the table and then wandlessly conjured some flames (which still cast no light) beneath the pot to boil the water.

"Still no light?" Harry asked.

Albus smiled wistfully. "Not unless you can shed any one the situation."

"I've got nothing, sorry."

"I'm thoroughly baffled. If I were unable to create heat wandlessly, I would be less confused; heat and light are both electromagnetic waves, albeit of different wavelengths. If I could not create heat, I would suspect that I am making a ball of magic rather than making magic that creates electromagnetic waves. As it is, however, I am able to make waves of a certain length (in the infrared spectrum, certainly) but not in that of visable light. I have considered experimenting in other spectra, for instance radio waves or—"

"I'm sorry, Albus. You lost me at electromagnetic," said Harry.

"Physics, Harry, physics. It's more related to magic than many witches and wizards acknowledge. Physics is probably the most important and most misunderstood component of magic."

"I thought your mantra was that love was the most misunderstood and important component of magic."

"Is it…?"

"Pretty sure. You were always all 'Love is like oxygen! Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love!'"

Albus frowned doubtfully. "Goodness, really? I have yet to see any evidence to suggest that to be true—that either that will be my 'mantra' or that it is true magically, but I believe you speak the truth. As of now...I do not underestimate the…importance and joy of love, but I do not see it as relevant as physics to the practice of magic."

"Right…" said Harry, surprised to ever hear those words out of Albus Dumbledore's mouth. Albus remained untroubled.

"How has your magical creature animagus research gone?" asked Albus.

"I'm pretty sure there's nothing to find, though I can't be completely sure without the Wizzernet which _hasn't been invented yet_. I don't know how I made it through seven years of Hogwarts without it."

"What is the Wizzernet?"

"Like the internet but for wizards."

"What is the Internet?"

"Like magic but for muggles. Very useful for finding information. Anyway, if anyone's ever tried turning into an animagus of a magical creature, they didn't document it very well or didn't succeed—"

"Or survive," interjected Albus.

"Well, thanks," said Harry. "What I've guessed is that people don't try to turn into animagi of magical creatures because magical creatures have more complicated auras and don't usually let people in long enough to figure them out. When I was touring to find a form, the animals were really easy to read, but Fawkes can block me out any time he wants."

"Well, maybe if you asked nicely."

"He's cooperative. I'm doing this for him, after all. I'm just saying that's why no one's ever done it before. Probably."

Albus nodded in thought for a moment. "So, try it."

"Ok."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"Life is short," said Albus.

Harry glared at him. "Says you. You're like…seventy."

"Seventy six."

"Why do you look thirty five, again? It's like…"

"Magic? I do eat a lot of fruits and vegetables."

"Seriously, though," Harry persisted. "Do you do something? You look—"

"Really, Harry, let's not discuss my vanity. Are you ready to transform?"

"What, now?"

"Mmm…Yes. What better time? You have my expert supervision at your disposal."

Harry was about to scoff and say that he didn't need supervision, but then he remembered what happened the last time he'd tried an animagus transformation. Instead he rolled his eyes.

"Alright."

They stared at each other for another moment.

"Really? Now?" asked Harry after a moment. Albus just nodded.

Harry was about to make up some excuse to procrastinate, some reason why not to try when a sudden warm wind seemed to sweep over his whole body—through his body. The wind grew so fierce that he was lifted into the air. Though Harry was caught in a storm, not a paper blew in Albus's office and the tea in Harry's cup didn't even ripple.

Harry cried out in surprise and tried to say, "Albus, what's going on? Are you doing this?" but found he couldn't form words. He also realized that that was a stupid question. He knew exactly what was going on and how was doing it. Fawkes was taking over.

Harry was now several feet in the air and only dimly aware that Albus had stood up. He became aware of a warm tickling sensation at his feet that made him sweat and itch. The tickling moved to his ankles, and his feet became uncomfortably warm. The warmth spread up his body, and he gasped in discomfort.

"Harry?" Albus asked. Harry could hardly hear Albus through the roaring in his ears. "Harry I think I know what's happening. You're going to burn! You have to stop! Stop, Harry, stop!"

But Harry couldn't stop—he hadn't started in the first place. His entire body was now consumed in burning pain. He heard a scream and realized it was coming from his own mouth. Though his Gryffindor pride and bravery prevented any thought of pleading from crossing his mind, Harry did ask, with his last conscious thought, '_why, Fawkes? Why?'_

Albus pulled out his wand, but it was too late. Harry vanished in a spire of violently whirling flames, hovering in the air.

Albus cried out in shock and began chanting feverishly with his wand aloft. To his surprise and frustration, he was thrown backwards into armchair and his wand vanished in flames that singed his hand. The furious look on Albus's face was like thunder blossoming from a dark cloud. He now knew that it wasn't Harry making the change. Something was burning Harry alive.

Before Albus could do anything else, though, the storm of flames in the middle of the room dropped to the floor. The flames dissipated rapidly until all there was left were a large pile of ashes and a mangled pair of glasses.

* * *

**Next chapter: OMG is Fawkes evil? How much is Dumbledore going to freak out? Is Harry **_**dead**_**? (Spoilers: no).**

**A/N: CLIFF. Sorry. (No I'm not. Maybe a little.) Please review. Thanks.**


	49. Burning Day

**A/N: Hello. I did promise a chapter before the new year, and you're probably going to get more than one. This is short and confusing, but this plot will work itself out, I promise. This chapter has not been beta'd. My betas were all scattered throughout the country by the magical terrorist attack on Atlantis (speaking of that…don't bother reading Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex [book 7]…It's really silly. Not as silly as book 6, where Holly and Artemis kiss. SO SILLY. Leave the faniction to us, Eoin Colfer). And with that, enjoy the chapter. Also, happy Christmas if you are Christian or American. (And happy solstice if you are everyone—did you catch the eclipse? It was AWESOME.)**

**

* * *

**

_**Last Chapter: **_

_Something was burning Harry alive._

_Before Albus could do anything else, though, the storm of flames in the middle of the room dropped to the floor. The flames dissipated rapidly until all there was left were a large pile of ashes and a mangled pair of glasses._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 49**

Albus fell to his knees by the pile of ashes and brought his face close. He squinted—glared at the big gray pile.

Something deep in the pile shifted slightly, just enough to knock a bit of dust down the side, but Albus's eyes snapped there immediately. He watched intently for several minutes while nothing happened. He was completely still. An onlooker would have been hard pressed to tell whether or not Albus was breathing.

The pile moved again, just a little bit at the top, then the whole top of the pile lifted an inch to reveal the unmistakable ugly head of a baby phoenix.

"Harry?"

The phoenix hopped out of the ashes and looked at Dumbledore for a moment. Suddenly, it vanished in a whirl of flame and reappeared a moment later with a smoking branch with red seeds, the same plant that Fawkes had brought to Harry after hatching.

Albus looked from the bird to the plant for a moment and then clicked his fingers. With a crack, a house elf appeared.

"Roopie, will you please ask Professor Sprout to bring a large pile of Fireweed up here immediately? Thank you."

"Yes, Master Dumbledore, sir." Roopie vanished with a crack.

"Harry?" Albus asked again, once Roopie had gone. "…Fawkes?"

The baby phoenix yawned noncommittally and stumbled around stretching its little wings.

"Harry, is that you? Can you communicate? Harry?" He waited for a moment. "Fawkes? I am aware that whether you are Fawkes or Harry, you can understand me."

The bird did not react. Albus watched it stumble around on his carpet for a minute or two, lost in thought.

"Can you transform back?" asked Albus.

The phoenix pierced Albus with its little eyes and glared for a moment before hopping onto Albus's knee, digging its talons into Albus's robes, and vanishing both of them in a whirl of flame.

Someone shrieked as the flames subsided. Albus and the phoenix found themselves in one of the greenhouses, and Pomona Sprout was pressing her back against one of the glass walls looking quite shocked.

"Ah, Pomona. Sorry to startle you." Albus put on a polite smile. "May…" He cleared his throat. "May _Fawkes_ consume some of your Fireweed? It accelerates his regeneration and growth process."

"Oh! Goodness…yes, of course Professor," Pomona said, recovering from her shock. "Just…mind the Banging Begonias. They're very volatile this time of year. Quite a lot of noise. Do you, ah…need any help?"

Albus turned to see that the phoenix had already invited himself to go much on the crop of Fireweed. Albus could already see that he had grown, and his feathers were returning to their usual fiery luster.

"I don't believe so. Thank you, Pomonoa—and do please call me Albus."

"Oh. Um. You're welcome Professor…er…Albus." She stood there awkwardly for a moment, not leaving.

"Was there something else, dear?" asked Albus, hiding any impatience he may or may not have had.

Pomona blushed scarlet. "No…nothing." Albus continued to pierce her with his blue gaze until Pomona continued. "It's just…You see, Sir—I mean Albus—I was looking through the school rules and…well…see…well…it…"

Albus cut her off. "If Mister Longbottom has made romantic advances, you may feel free to reciprocate them despite your status as his professor."

Pomona blushed even deeper.

"I was reviewing that clause just the other day," continued Albus, "and I thought that if I deemed it appropriate and desirable for two professors to court one another, it would not be fair if you were not allowed to court the students of your own age."

Pomona let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you, Prof—Albus. How did you know?"

Albus twinkled and opened his mouth to speak, but someone beat him to it.

"Albus knows a lot of things he shouldn't."

Both Albus and Pomona spun around to see just Harry's head sticking up from behind a five foot tall flowerpot.

"Hello, Harry, when did you …get here?" asked Albus brightly. Harry wondered if Albus was genuinely unconcerned or just hiding his worry very well. Harry himself was rather shaken from being burned alive.

"Pomona, you should take Longbottom some of those Banging Begonias. Men like flowers too, you know—especially flowers that make noise," Harry said, hiding his internal trauma.

"Oh…right. Thanks," said Pomona, quite embarrassed. She plucked several Begonias (each letting off a hefty bang as it was touched). "I'll…be off now. Let me know if you need any more help." She scurried out of the greenhouse, and several loud bangs followed in her wake.

Harry turned to Albus. "What's this about professors courting?" he asked, suddenly remembering.

Albus smiled. "It's been known to happen. I just happened to be reading that section of the rule book that banned inter professorial relationships and I—"

"You just happened to be reading that section of the Hogwarts rule book?"

"Do not underestimate the literary consumption of an old man left alone with his walls full of books for too long. Besides, this is all highly irrelevant. What happened, Harry?"

"Well," said Harry who did not think that inter professorial relationships were irrelevant, "to the best of my knowledge, Fawkes took it upon himself to start the transformation process himself...It turns out, it hurts rather a lot to be burned alive…and then my memory's quite fuzzy until I turned back a moment ago. First thing I heard was something about professors courting. Erm…so…how did we get in the greenhouses, then?"

"I don't know about you, but I was teleported here by a baby phoenix."

"Right…ah…I suppose I…we…he…whoever…was after that smoking plant thing. Fawkes wanted that right after he hatched the first time."

"Indeed. So, you don't remember who was in control? Nothing?"

"No…" said Harry. "Hey, Albus? Could you give me some clothes, please? My wand's too far away for me to do any magic. I guess I should be glad I left it in my tower—it would probably have burned with me otherwise."

"I'm afraid my wand is gone, also. It…vanished when you changed. I could try to do it wandlessly—"

Orange flames appeared in front of Albus's face and vanished as quickly as they'd come leaving Albus's wand in their place. Albus caught it before it fell and looked to Harry.

"I didn't do it," said Harry, spooked.

Albus hummed in thought and flicked his wand in Harry's direction. Harry found himself in lilac robes.

"I think it's Fawkes," said Harry.

"That was my theory—that Fawkes is somehow asserting some measure of control and is performing magic," said Albus, "though I don't understand the magic behind it if it is true."

"Right," said Harry, suddenly feeling very, very tired. "Well, I'm knackered. I think I'll go and get an early night before the duel tomorrow."

"Harry, I think we should figure out—"

"Albus, I'm honestly too tired. I need an early night." He felt his eyes drooping closed where he stood.

"Harry, it's four thirty in the afternoon."

"Yes, well, I've had a long day."

"But Harry, you've just had a nap. Something's happening to you, and I can't allow you to go off by yourself right now."

"Ah…yes…well…Have a nice afternoon." Harry vanished in a burst of flame.

Albus was left standing alone in greenhouse four, definitely concerned. "Not likely…" he muttered.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Is Harry in control or is Fawkes? Is Fawkes evil? Can Harry and Fawkes live this way?**

**A/N: Yeah. Another cliff hanger. Sorry. Review, please!**


	50. Fire and Fog

**A/N: Yay…quick updates. This is another short chapter, but it doesn't really end in a cliff hanger! Yay! This has not been beta'd. I have somewhere to go soon, so I don't have time to make up a story about where they all are. …Does anyone besides Matt read those anyway? Anyway. Enjoy.**

* * *

_Last Chapter: "Something's happening to you, and I can't allow you to go off by yourself right now," said Albus._

"_Ah…yes…well…Have a nice afternoon." Harry vanished in a burst of flame._

_Albus was left standing alone in greenhouse four, definitely concerned. "Not likely…" he muttered._

* * *

**Chapter 50**

Albus stood on the quidditch pitch on the morning of Friday the Twentieth of December at five minutes to one in the afternoon. He stood tall, despite having been awake all night looking for Harry. Harry had not been in his tower, as far as Albus could tell through magic and a glance through his window from a broom. Harry had not been to any meals since he disappeared from the greenhouse, and had not shown up to the morning's duels.

Rufus Scrimgeour had beaten Dorcas Meadows in the semi finals, and Alastor Moody had crushed Scrimgeour in the student final, but Albus had not been there to watch. He'd been looking for Harry.

Albus had checked all over campus, the room of requirement, and the clearing in the forest repeatedly, but by lunch he was resigned to the fact that he'd sooner search all of the sky before finding Harry if Harry—or Fawkes— did not wish to be found.

So Albus was standing on the quidditch pitch. The stands were almost full of students, waiting to see the powerful professors Albus and Harry duel—the last duel of the tournament. Minerva had informed Albus that there were bets on each of them, and Albus had asked Minerva if anyone had bet on a cancelation.

But nonetheless, he stood on the field, waiting for one-o-clock or Harry, whichever came first.

The students started muttering. The duelists were always preparing a few minutes before the duel, but no one could seem to spot Professor Crockett.

The minutes ticked down until the start of the duel. Fifty six…fifty seven…fifty eight…No Harry.

Fifty nine…fifty nine thirty…fifty nine forty five…

The bell rang to start the duel, and an almighty tower of fire appeared in the middle of the field, swirling, rising.

The students and teachers alike gasped in the stands. Albus stood where he was, looking straight into the heart of the flames as they shrank and died.

There was Harry in a broad circle of burned grass. His hands were at his sides, and he did not hold a wand. He did not wear glasses, and his feet were bare. His hair was sticking up at stranger angles than usual and he wore robes that could have been woven out of gold.

He saw Albus and his eyes went wide. He looked around confused at the stadium for a moment. Then his face went blank again.

His face was blank, but Albus could see fire behind his green eyes.

Albus squinted at Harry for a moment before sending a full body bind in his direction. Harry grinned as the spell approached, and the crowd gasped, thinking it would hit. It didn't hit. At the last moment, Harry vanished in fire, the spell continuing straight through.

Harry reappeared ten yards behind Albus, and Albus spun around. Albus sent another simple spell at Harry, but Harry vanished again and reappeared to Albus's left.

"Are you going to attack me?" asked Albus, turning to face Harry again.

Harry didn't reply, but Albus burst into flames. Albus had already cast a shield, so the flames did nothing but make him a little warm. The flames died and Albus stepped closer to Harry.

"Where is Harry's wand?"

Harry glared at Albus.

"Why aren't you using his magic?"

Harry just kept glaring. Albus kept approaching.

"Can you use his magic? I know you can't speak."

Albus was ten feet away.

"Why are you still here?"

Albus raised his wand, and with a flash of fire the wand disappeared.

"I am disarmed. What are you going to do now?"

Albus burst into flames again, but he had already cast a wandless shield. The flames melted away.

"Phoenixes don't kill," said Albus. "You don't even eat meat. Why are you doing this, Fawkes?"

And then, in a rather uncharacteristic move, Albus dove, trying to tackle Harry to the ground. He missed and Harry vanished again.

Albus picked himself up and looked up at the score board displaying the magic.

"Full Body Bind: Dumbledore  
"Freezing Charm: Dumbledore  
"Shield Charm: Dumbledore  
"Unknown: Dumbledore"

He clicked his fingers. As he watched, another spell was added to the list.

"Unknown: Dumbledore"

If the spell had not been wandless, it would have said "Summoning Charm: Dumbledore."

Harry reappeared some ways away. His entire focus was on Albus. He was not as interested in the display board as Albus, nor interested at all. He stood still on his patch of grass, watching Albus—except that Albus suddenly had great clouds of opaque purple fog rising all around him, spreading and blossoming over the pitch. Soon Harry was enveloped in the fog, and the stadium started to resemble a large cauldron, filled to the brim with purple smoke. No onlooker could see thorough to Albus or Harry, but someone particularly observant might have noticed something shiny and gold fly through the air and vanish into the fog.

Within the fog, Albus caught the little gold object—which was, in fact, a time turner. He slipped it around his neck and waited a few moments to give himself enough time with the cloud cover to go back into. Then, he crept through towards where Harry was.

After a few minutes of searching, he spotted Harry a few feet in front of him, his shining gold robes mercifully ostentatious, even through the fog. Albus let out a cry that passed for surprise. Harry heard him and, as usual, vanished in a ball of flame. The fog glowed orange for ten feet around.

Albus quickly cast a wandless floating charm on his boots and rose up into the air like a cork in water just in time to see the purple fog flash orange for a moment at the other end of the pitch. He quickly memorized where he'd seen Harry reappear (roughly the center of the orange patch), and sank back into the fog.

He then moved a ways away from where he'd found Harry in the fog so that when he went back in time, he would not arrive on top of Harry. He pulled the time turner out of his robes, and twisted it slightly—less than an eighth of a revolution.

The fog whirled around him as time ticked backwards, and then it stopped, and he was standing where he'd been, but just a few minutes in the past.

He moved quickly through the fog, making sure he didn't cross paths with himself or Harry. Finally, he reached where he'd seen the flash of orange. He levitated himself out of the fog just to check, and then sank back down and waited.

Finally, he heard himself cry out, the signal he'd left himself to know when Harry vanished, and readied himself.

Flames pierced the air inches in front of Albus's face and he dove forward, singing his hands and face in the process. He hit something solid—a solid Harry—and the two of them toppled to the ground.

The flames died down and both Harry and Albus breathed quietly for a moment.

"Albus?" asked Harry.

"Why yes," said Albus. "I see you're back with us, Harry."

"…Why is everything purple, Albus? Are we in one of your dreams again?"

"Alas, no. We are in the middle of a duel. Fawkes took it upon himself to get you here…Harry, do you have any idea where you were last night? Can you tell me what's been happening?"

"I remember…the greenhouses. When was that?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Oh. I…I think flying? And…teleporting? They're dim memories, but…we must have gone all around the world. Oh! And I remember…just a second. There was just a moment where I saw you on the pitch, and I looked around, and then he took over again. That must have been when we got here…I couldn't really see much—I still can't—I don't have my glasses."

"Do you know why Fawkes wanted to take you back here?" asked Albus.

"I don't think he did," said Harry. "I've been looking forward to this duel for months, though. The notion must have leaked into him somehow. I just knew I had to be here. –Albus, what's that on your face?" asked Harry, spotting the burns he'd made.

"It's nothing, Harry. Just a few burns."

"Did I…did he…did we do that?"

"Don't worry about it. There's nothing either of us can do about it at the moment, as neither of us have wands. Actually…I could probably heal it wandlessly…"

The burn that appeared to Harry's blurred vision as a smudge on Albus's face began to fade. Albus sighed. "Better. But there are more pressing things. For instance—"

The bell rang, signaling the end of the duel.

"…Who won?" asked Harry.

"I. You cannot do magic."

"I could probably use Fawkes's magic," said Harry indigently. "I could teleport out."

"Really? Could you get my wand back?"

"Uhh…" Harry laughed nervously. "I don't think I'll risk a relapse. Can you clear up the smoke?"

Albus waved his hand and the fog began to dissipate.

When the scoreboard was visible, Albus hummed. "Curious," he said.

"Sorry, but what's curious?" asked Harry.

"We seem to have tied again."

"Why is that so curious?" asked Harry.

"For one, because I have an unbeatable wand…"

"Ah…yes…well," said Harry, who still hadn't told Albus that he, too, was master of the Elder Wand. "Don't be a bad sport." Albus scoffed. "We should stand up now," said Harry, changing the subject.

"Indeed," said Albus.

The two of them detangled and stood up. The last of the fog cleared away, and the two looked up at the stadium and took bows.

"And with that," said Albus, his voice wandlessly booming all over the stadium, "we conclude the dueling tournament. Have a lovely afternoon." The students and professors cheered and clapped and started filing out.

"Albus, I'm famished. I think I'll go to the kitchens."

"No, Harry. I think we need to figure out what's going on."

"Really, Albus. I'm about to faint." Harry's eyes were un-focusing.

"I'll summon you some food. Come up to my office."

"Let me just…"

Albus grabbed Harry's arm and turned them face to face.

"No, Harry."

"Oh!" Harry blinked a few times. "I…am not hungry anymore. The second you touched me, it's like you woke me up."

"As I thought," said Albus. "You said you were tired just before you left last night. Do you remember?"

"Sort of."

"Let's go to your tower and get your wand," suggested Albus. "I have a theory…"

* * *

**Next Chapter: It could be bunnies! (You get sooo many points if you get that reference. I might even write you a oneshot.) Harry and Albus try to figure out how to fix the phoenix problem. **

**A/N: Yeah. Ok. Take the poll on my profile. It is not related to S&B, but…HALP. Also, review, please!**


	51. Harry's Magic

**A/N: So busy! Agh. Anyway, here's a chapter. It hasn't been betad because, though I walked through the snow for several hours in search of an editor, I couldn't find one. I actually did knock on several doors of my various betas and couldn't find any of them. There was snow-trudging involved. Yes, really. **

**Anyway. Here's…that. Chapter. Now.**

* * *

_Last Chapter: _

"_Let's go to your tower and get your wand," suggested Albus. "I have a theory…"_

* * *

**Chapter 51**

They went back to the castle and up to Harry's tower. Albus kept his hand on the small of Harry's back the whole way. Harry was glad; he was pretty sure Albus was what was keeping him grounded.

They reached the landing below Harry's tower and stopped.

"Would I be correct in saying this is close enough for you to reach your wand?"

"Yeah, it should be," said Harry, "but I can't feel it."

Albus clicked his fingers and the trapdoor flew open.

"Wow, I didn't lock that or anything when I left yesterday…Some defense against the Dark Arts teacher I am."

"Let us not dwell on your error as it aids us in our current task, yes?"

Harry smiled weakly.

"Would you like me to levitate you up or conjure a ladder?" asked Albus.

Harry sighed. "I'd actually like to try teleporting. It'll either work or it won't, but I should know if I can use it."

Albus gazed at Harry for a moment. "That seems prudent, but I would ask that you take me with you."

"Are you sure? You could get burned alive."

"Doubtful," said Albus. "I trust you."

Harry nodded, hiding how under pressure he felt. "You ready?"

Albus nodded.

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Albus and concentrated on the feelings of phoenix teleportation. During the times Fawkes did it in Harry's body, Harry could dimly make out the feeling despite being out of control. The phrase "home is where the heart is" came to mind, in that each time Fawkes teleported, he had to love the place he was going, think of it as home, long to be there. With regular apparition there was a definite determination required, but phoenix teleportation required a passion beyond that.

So Harry focused—focused all of his love he had for the Hogwarts castle on his tower.

His face felt a little warm, but nothing happened. Clearly his passion for the Hogwarts castle couldn't match up to the powerful feelings of a phoenix.

"Right," he said. "Hold on…"

He closed his eyes, and this time he imagined that Albus was waiting for him in the tower. He imagined what he wanted to do when he saw Albus in his tower. A heat rose through his body like the warmth that spread through his fingers when he picked up his wand. He couldn't tell if the heat was from flames or magic or blush, but the next moment he was on his bed on top of Albus.

He was relieved for a moment that he'd managed the teleportation without killing either of them, but then realized where he was and scrambled backwards off Albus before his "passion" could manifest itself physically.

"Er…did I burn you at all?"

"No," said Albus. "I merely experienced a pleasant warm tickling sensation."

Harry's throat went dry. "Ah." He was quiet for a moment. "Well. I'm glad it worked."

"Indeed," said Albus. "A very impressive mode of transportation. Where is your wand?"

It was on the bedside table and Harry went to pick it up. For the first time ever, he did not experience the warmth spreading through his fingers when he touched it. It felt just like picking up any old piece of wood. He waved it, trying to conjure something—anything—but he knew it wouldn't work. His gut twisted and his face fell. It was almost as bad as when Hermione accidentally broke his wand in Bathilda Bagshot's house.

"Nothing?" asked Albus.

Harry looked at him, his face betraying his loss, and nodded.

"May I?" asked Albus.

Harry let Albus take the wand out of his hand. "I don't know if it will work for you," he said. "I can—could make it not work for people, but…I don't know now…"

Albus adjusted his grip on the wand and flicked it into the air. Harry didn't feel anything magical in himself, but a bunch of purple flowers flew out of the wand tip. Albus flicked the wand again, and the flowers landed in a vase of water on Harry's bedside table.

Harry felt utterly betrayed. His wand would work for Albus, but it wouldn't work for him.

"Hmm," said Albus. "Would you please give me an example of a type of magic that you can do that I could not?" he asked.

"Ah…" said Harry, through the lump in this throat. "Conjuring food?"

Albus sniffed in amusement. "Of course," he muttered. He flicked the wand, but nothing happened. He tried twice more with the same result.

"It seems," he said, "that the wand is functioning as it was designed to, but not in tandem with your magic. It also seems like your magic has been entirely muted. I'm sorry, Harry. We will fix this."

There was a knocking at the trapdoor. Albus looked to Harry and Harry shrugged. Albus got off the bed, walked over to the trapdoor, crouched over it, and opened it. He leaned back quickly as the small rock that had been knocking on the door went whizzing up through the trapdoor. It fell back down and impacted against something dull.

"Ouch!"

"Hello, Minerva," said Albus. He flicked Harry's wand through the trapdoor, conjuring a rope ladder, and a moment later Minerva emerged.

"Thanks," she said. "I had a feeling I'd find you here. Harry, Albus was like a five year old lost in a shopping center looking for you yesterday. Where did you go?"

"Good question," said Harry. He sat back down on his bed and put his head in his hands. "So, I told you I was trying to get a phoenix animagus form. Well, I did, only it seems like that…let Fawkes take over. I really have no idea where I was last night. He can be in control in both my form and as a phoenix…"

"That would explain how strange your duel was." She paused. "How do we know you're not Fawkes now?" asked Minerva.

"Because…er…"

"For one, because Fawkes cannot speak," said Albus. "He only ever communicated with Harry in images and emotions. He screamed during the duel, but he can't actually form words."

"You call those words?" she asked. Harry glared at her and Albus gave her a blank, silent look and didn't respond. Minerva continued, addressing Albus. "And now you're babysitting him to make sure he doesn't swan off again?

"Or phoenix off, as it were, yes," said Albus.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "So how are you going to fix him, Albus? You can't leave him like this. He might start squawking at the students."

"Oi. I'm standing right here," said Harry. "And don't provoke Fawkes. He already stole Albus's wand. He might take yours next."

"Are you sure that wasn't you, Harry?" He glared at her again. "Can't you do anything about it?"

"Probably, but I don't know what yet. Let us know if you have any brilliant ideas that don't involve putting me in a cage or making sarcastic remarks at my expense."

"I'd love to help," she said, still with some measure of sarcasm, "but I've got to pack. I'm leaving tonight after the feast."

"Somehow I get the idea she doesn't think this is very important," Harry said to Albus.

"Oi! Standing right here," said Minerva.

"Sorry," said Harry sarcastically. "Where are you going?"

"Believe it or not, I'm going to spend the holidays with my family. They're expecting me, and I'm not sure what I could do to help that you and Albus don't have covered—but keep me informed. Right, well I've got to go. I'll see you at the feast. Harry, don't hurt yourself. Albus, don't let Harry hurt you."

She dropped down out of the trapdoor, presumably having cast a cushioning charm on the ground as the impact noise was muffled and there was no shriek of pain.

"Makes you wonder why she came up here in the first place," said Harry.

"I can still hear you, Crockett!" shouted Minerva.

"Oh, go pack!" Harry shouted back. The trapdoor shut of its own accord. "Right." They were silent for a moment.

"There are a few solutions, Harry."

"MMhmm," said Harry, refocusing on Albus.

"Unless you intend to spend the rest of your life fighting with Fawkes over the custody of your body, that is."

Harry shook his head.

"And if Fawkes wanted to share, he would be doing so."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose."

"Then I think it's time to get Fawkes a new body."

* * *

**Next Chapter: Harry and Albus spend lots of time together figuring out how to get Fawkes a new body.**

**A/N: I don't know when I'll be able to publish again as I am super busy, but I have a lot of work that I'd like to procrastinate and my boyfriend won't stop playing Minecraft. (Seriously, dude. Get a life. What do you **_**mean **_**fanfiction's just as bad?) Annnyway. Review, please! See, every time I get a review, it goes to my phone and I check it and it makes my day a little better. True story. Do it. Review. **


	52. Shell Cottage

**A/N: That took forever. My computer broke. This hasn't been beta'd. Sorry. Whatever. Anyway. Cool stuff. Read. Enjoy. Review. I'm back to coding now.**

* * *

_Last Chapter:_

_"Then I think it's time to get Fawkes a new body." _

* * *

**Chapter 52**

"Well, that sounds like a good idea. So, how are we going to get Fawkes a new body?" asked Harry. "Do you know how to do that?"

Albus sat on the end of Harry's massive purple bed and Harry was sitting cross legged on the rug in front of him.

"Ah…no, actually," said Albus.

"Well, oh. I do," said Harry surprising himself.

"You do?" asked Albus, apparently just as surprised.

"Well," said Harry, giving his brain a second to catch up to his mouth. He realized he needed to back off his claim a little as the situation wasn't exactly the same. "I saw someone get a new body one time."

Albus raised his eyebrows.

"He was in a sort of…spiritual state," he explained, referring to Voldemort after he'd disappeared when Harry was a baby. "And then he used some sort of mix of snake venom and unicorn blood to get a body, I think. It—he looked like a shriveled child or something. It was horrible—but then he made a potion with three important ingredients…er…Bones from his father, blood from an enemy…which was me, actually…and then flesh of his servant."

"Harry, that is unmistakably rather dark magic."

"Well, I wasn't suggesting we do it—We'd never be able to find Fawkes's father and I don't think he has any servants unless you want to count me or something—but maybe we could modify it?"

Albus sat for a moment thoughtfully.

"Would you be opposed to involving Nicolas?"

Harry smacked himself in the forehead. "Oh! Why didn't I think of that! The sorcerer's stone!"

"Indeed," said Albus.

"Should I Owl him?" asked Harry.

"I think this is more urgent than that. Let's to my office and I will fire-call him."

Albus stood up and made for the trapdoor, but Harry intercepted him and in a flash of flame, they were standing in Albus's office both feeling rather warm.

Albus looked down at Harry through his spectacles. Harry blushed and removed his arms. "Oops. Should have asked first."

Albus smiled. "Quite all right…" He immediately went to the fireplace which was already lit thanks to the care of the house elves. He grabbed a pinch of floo powder from a large silver urn and threw it into the fire. The flames immediately turned an emerald green. Albus crouched down and said something into the flames before sticking his head through.

Harry stood behind him waiting for about thirty seconds before Albus pulled his head out and stood up. When Harry saw his face he could hardly keep his face straight. Albus's long auburn hair and goatee were dusted with ash, and his half-moon glasses were completely obscured. His face was smudged and Harry couldn't resist reaching forward to wipe some soot off his cheek smiling faintly.

Albus chuckled when Harry touched his face. "I must look a wreck." He snapped his fingers and the mess disappeared. Harry snapped out of it and pulled his hand back.

"Was he there?" asked Harry.

"He's there and so free that I think he's rather fascinated by the problem…"

"Right," said Harry. "Well…shall we?"

"I worry that you might disappear in the floo," said Albus.

"I could teleport us," said Harry.

"But you've never been there."

"You could apparate us," said Harry.

"Not from inside the castle. Shall we take a walk?"

"Or…I could…" Harry circled his arms around Albus once more and they vanished again. The teleportation got easier each time.

Harry and Albus reappeared outside the castle gates. The snow had melted a foot around them so they stood in a small clear patch.

"Brilliant," said Albus. "I may never walk anywhere again…Are you ready to apparate?" They were still embracing and Harry nodded his head.

Before Harry could take a breath, he was hurled through space as if through a rubber tube. He had just enough time to acknowledge that phoenix teleportation was a much superior way to travel and then the sensation ended and he was standing knee deep in the snow on a very familiar hill.

"Shell Cottage?" asked Harry, quite surprised. He'd been expecting a grand mansion or castle from Nicolas Flamel the Old Enough to Acquire Tons of Wealth.

"You know it?" asked Albus. He let Harry out of his embrace.

"I…" Harry chuckled. "I stayed here for a few weeks with some friends."

"Nicolas and Penny have lived here for centuries," said Albus.

"Ah, well…" Harry swallowed realizing that by the time Bill and Fleur had moved into Shell Cottage, Nicolas and his wife had probably died after destroying the stone. "He didn't live there in the future."

Albus looked a little disconcerted but nodded and began carving a path in the snow using Harry's wand as a snow blower.

They reached the front door and knocked. The door opened a moment later and a beautiful woman in her thirties greeted them. Like Nicolas, she was dressed in an assortment of the best fashion from different eras that all worked quite well together. She had sleek dirty brown hair that was tied back loosely in a low ponytail with a ribbon.

"You must be Mr. Crockett. Good afternoon, Albus."

"Penny, it's good to see you!" said Albus warmly. He embraced Penny. "I didn't realize you had returned from China. How was your trip?"

"I returned but a month ago. 'Twas delightful, though quite different from my visit in the 1720s. The Great Leap Forward, is what they're doing now. Communism. Well, good luck to them as long as they don't abolish the steamed pork bun. But Mr. Crockett—"

"Please call me Harry," said Harry.

"Harry, I've heard so much about you. And what lovely robes you're wearing."

Harry looked down to see he was wearing the gaudy golden robes that Fawkes had put him in. He nearly died of embarrassment, but didn't have a moment to explain himself.

"You left quite an impression on Nick," Penny continued. "I think he talks more about you than he talked about Albus when they first met."

Harry felt his face grow even warmer. He laughed nervously. "Really? Wow."

"Yes," said Penny. "I wouldn't be surprised if he offered you the—"

"Harry! Albus! It's good to see you again so soon." Nicolas appeared in the door behind Penny. "Come in, come in."

Harry gasped as the Flamels led them into the house. Shell Cottage would be a tiny little house when Bill and Fleur lived there, but the Flamels had magically enlarged the inside. Here, inside, was the castle that Harry had been expecting. The ceilings were lofty and carved. The first room was bigger than the whole cottage should have been according to the dimensions on the outside.

Nicolas looked at Harry questioningly.

"It's…bigger on the inside," Harry explained in awe. He'd seen the spell before on tents and bags and cars, but never quite to this extent. He wondered why the house hadn't been that way in his time.

"When one has been alive as long as we, one needs room to store one's possessions. It would be very rude indeed if the Royal Family of England called, only to find that we had thrown away their gifted jewelry in favor of more room," said Penny.

"The…muggle Royal Family?"

"Yes. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip the Duke of Edinburgh call often for tea or supper. We have long been friends with the Royal Family. For centuries, I've enchanted the palace against wrongdoers," said Nicolas.

"Do they…er…know about the wizarding world?"

"Yes, of course," said Nicolas. "As does the Prime Minister. In fact, I think there are a few wizards and witches in the Royal Family. There always have been. Elizabeth and Phil come here often, though. It's the only place they can go without an escort."

"Yes, dear, after you confounded them into thinking we were trustworthy."

"We are trustworthy, Penny."

"Mmm," she hummed and put her arm around his waist. "Can I get you gentlemen some tea? Biscuits?"

"Yes, please," said Harry and Albus and Nicolas.

"I would make Nicolas get it, but it seems like you had something to discuss and I would hate to keep you from it." She smiled and Nicolas gestured Harry and Albus through a door to the left. Nicolas followed a few moments later looking a little sheepish and with his hair slightly ruffled.

He led them through a few rooms until they reached a very comfortable looking sitting room with a warm fireplace. They all took seats. Penny entered the room a second later and took a seat next to Nicolas. Harry couldn't figure out why she'd come without tea after she said she was getting tea until several house elves appeared with large trays of tea and scones and biscuits.

"So," said Nicolas once they had all been poured tea and Albus had added his seven or eight sugar cubes, "Albus was very hasty in his explanation of the problem. Would either of you care to elaborate for me?"

"Well," said Harry, "it's sort of complicated…but I have the soul of a phoenix living inside my body."

Nicolas leaned forward. "And how _exactly _did that happen?" he asked.

Harry looked to Albus. "Fawkes the phoenix got in the way of the Avada Kedavra curse from my wand," said Albus.

"And who, may I ask, cast the curse?" Nicolas asked.

"It was me," said Harry, hanging his head. Nicolas raised his head in surprise. Harry wasn't sure if he was surprised that Harry was casting dark magic with the Elder Wand or that it worked well enough to kill a phoenix.

"An accident, of course," said Albus.

"Of course," said Nicolas. "And then what happened?"

"Fawkes's soul had already been linked with Harry's, so when Fawkes lost his body, his soul latched onto Harry's and they now share a body," said Albus. "They have been sharing for months—since before you first met Harry."

"Why has this only become an urgent issue now?" asked Nicolas.

"I wanted to give him a body back—I wanted him to be able to fly. A few months ago I completed my animagus transformation into a bird, but I wanted to become a phoenix for him. I did a lot of research, but I couldn't find anyone who'd ever done an animagus transformation into a magical creature. Albus and I were having tea yesterday afternoon and Albus was trying to talk me into just trying when…I was lifted up into the air and…burned alive."

"He burned to ashes, and in the ashes was a baby phoenix," continued Albus. "I did not know whether it possessed the consciousness of Harry or Fawkes, but I brought him to the greenhouses to consume fireweed. I was distracted for a moment by a conversation with a colleague, and Harry interrupted a moment later, back in his normal body remembering nothing."

"I sort of wondered how I'd gotten to the greenhouses, and I talked with Albus for a bit after Pomona left and then I felt really sleepy…"

"And I tried to convince him to stay, but he vanished again in flames. I searched for him, almost through the night. He appeared this afternoon at our duel."

"Your duel?" asked Nicolas.

"We had a dueling tournament for the students and faculty. Today was the culmination."

"Who won?" asked Nicolas, quite interested.

"We tied," said Albus. Nicolas raised his eyebrows and looked at Harry. Harry was quite worried that Nicolas was piecing together the fact that Harry was also a master of the Elder Wand. "He appeared in his form but under the control of Fawkes. I believe he was himself for a moment, but Fawkes took over again and we dueled. Every time I cast, he teleported away. Finally I managed to pin him physically to the ground. I believe this triggered his regain of consciousness. I've been keeping close to him ever since."

"We figured out that I can't use my wand," said Harry. "I can't use any magic but the phoenix magic, actually. My own magic is being suppressed somehow. Also, Fawkes took Albus's wand and I don't think I can get it back, so he's using mine."

"We decided that the best solution is to fabricate a new body for Fawkes," said Albus.

"And that's when we came to you," said Harry.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

"Well," said Nicolas, "there's something you're not asking."

Harry cringed. What they weren't asking was "could we please use your amazing one-of-a-kind Sorcerer's Stone that you've only ever offered to three people?" Harry felt a little stupid. What would make him worthy or using the stone? He'd only ever offered it to the love of his life, Leonardo Da Vinci and…someone else.

"But I don't think you'll have to ask. There's something I would like to offer you," said Nicolas. "Something I've only offered to three people before."

Harry felt lightheaded and Albus looked very uncomfortable.

"The Sorcerer's Stone produces the elixir of life, as you know, and it is that that has kept Penny and me alive for these centuries. I would like to offer you the same, and should it, as a side effect, provide your phoenix with a new body, so be it."

Harry was now quite uncomfortable. Why was Nicolas offering this to him in front of Albus? And why did he deem Harry worthy in the first place? And why would Harry qualify where Albus would not?

Albus looked equally uncomfortable. Harry could imagine the sting of exclusion delivered by one of his best friends offering the elixir of life to someone he'd met once and not to him, Albus. Harry didn't know what to do. Accepting the elixir could fix his phoenix problem, but it could also ruin his relationship with Albus. He didn't care about the immortality—he could be immortal anyway for all he knew. He was Master of Death, after all, whatever that meant.

But if he turned down the elixir, he would not only appear ungrateful, but he wouldn't have solved the phoenix problem and he would have wasted all of their time.

But then again, he could just take the elixir to get Fawkes a body. To be immortal, he would have to continue taking the elixir. Maybe that way he would look grateful and not ruin his friendship with Albus. But the damage could have already been done. –Would Albus blame Harry anyway? Could he help himself feeling jealous?

Damn it, why would Nicolas do that? Did he have no tact?

Clearly Harry had been quiet for too long because Albus spoke up. "That is very generous of you, Nicolas. Harry?"

"Ah…Yes," said Harry. "I'm a little overwhelmed."

"Well, Harry, whether or not you want to consider the prospects of immortality, a single drink of elixir may give Fawkes his body back," said Albus.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

"I can't see why I shouldn't try," shrugged Harry, resigned to the fact that if Albus was going to get offended, he'd be offended already.

"Excellent," beamed Nicolas. "Why don't you all follow me? I'll show you where the stone cabinet is."

They stood up and Harry started heading towards the door, but Albus put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry stopped and turned around. Nicolas had pulled out his wand and was walking towards a relatively unoccupied wall. He put his wand tip against the wall for a moment, and something golden started to appear there. The gold spread outward from Nicolas's wand tip until there was a circle about six feet in diameter on the wall. The gold stopped spreading, but the circle started to have some dimension to it; designs appeared carved into and popping out of the gold wall. The last thing to appear was a round knob in the very center around Nicolas's wand tip.

Nicolas withdrew his wand from the knob slowly, and by the time it was all the way out, the knob was complete: a solid gold ball protruding from the circle on the wall. He took the knob and pushed, and then took a few steps back. All but the outer two inches of the gold circle, which Harry understood to be the frame of a door, began to sink backwards into the wall. When it had moved about three feet, it stopped.

Because the wall was only a few inches thick, there was now a three-foot gap between the wall and the gold door.

"Penny and I can access this from any room," said Nicolas.

"Oh…" said Harry. He was still baffled that Nicolas was showing him all of his secrets during their second meeting ever.

"After you," he said cheerily, and the four of them entered the room of the Sorcerer's Stone.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Harry uses the Sorcerer's Stone!**

**A/N: Yeah. Next chapter might be a while. I've got no computer and lots of work. So. Yeah. Please review!**


	53. The Stone

**A/N: Hello. It's been a while. Sorry 'bout that. The only reason I could publish today was because of READERMIKE. Dude. Thanks. You are the best. This reader told me about a way around the obnoxious error message I've been getting for a few weeks now. THANK YOU.**

**Anyway, here's a chapter for you. This has not been beta'd. My beta is currently training for her outer space mission and cannot bother to write, though I'm sure when she reaches the space station she will have plenty of time on her hands. I'll be thrilled to get a little perspective.  
Anyway. Enjoy this chapter.  
Oh right. And to my dear anonymous Daddy, thanks for the review. You made me and all of my friends laugh. I wasn't sure if you were trying to be gross or funny, but...we are squaeling with laughter.**

* * *

_**Previously…on Shiny and Blue:**__  
Harry has turned into a phoenix animagus, but now Fawkes, who has been co-habiting Harry's body, is taking control. Harry can gain his control back whenever Albus is around, but they're not sure how long that will last. Harry and Albus have decided that it would be best to get Fawkes a new body. Harry suggests a potion, and Albus decides that it would be best to visit Nicolas Flamel. They visit Nicolas and Penny in their home at Shell Cottage and Nicolas happily offers Harry the Philosopher's Stone in hopes that it will help Fawkes get a new body_.

* * *

**Chapter 53**

All of the walls were solid gold. There were no light fixtures, but the whole room seemed to glow. This gave Harry the sense of being on a two dimensional plane because nothing had shadows. Nicolas strode to the center of the room and bent down. He tapped the floor with his wand and stood back.

Before their eyes, a tendril of gold began sprouting from the ground. It should have been difficult to see as it was the same shade of gold as the rest of the room and there were no shadows, but it somehow drew the eye and bounced light in a different way than the walls and floor.

The tendril of gold sprouted leaves and a flower bud on top tucked over like a sleeping swan's head. Soon the bud grew and pulled itself upright, and then, finally, bloomed into a hand-sized gold flower. At the very center, where the pollen should be, was a red stone that Harry had seen once before. He stared at it, comparing it with his memories.

"You've seen it before," said Nicolas to Harry sounding surprised and disappointed.

Everyone looked at Harry.

"Er…" Harry decided it would be pointless to argue. "Yeah…how did you know?"

"I can tell."

"Ah, Nicolas, specific as always," said Albus.

Nicolas smiled faintly and waved his wand in the air. A silver goblet appeared in front of Harry, hovered for a moment, and then dropped. Harry caught it mid fall.

"Take the stone, Harry, and turn the goblet to gold."

"Er…" said Harry taking the stone in hand and holding the goblet in the other. "How do I do that?"

"Try," said Nicolas simply.

Harry opened his mouth to rebut, but thought better of it. He looked back and forth between the stone and the goblet for a moment. He frowned, and then tapped the stone against the goblet.

The change was immediate. Harry raised his eyebrows. "That's…dangerous," he said, imagining what would happen if he tapped the stone against, say, Albus.

"Well," said Nicolas, "it could, indeed be dangerous, as King Midas discovered. All he touched turned to gold, and he soon metalized his friends, family, and food sources. Learning from his mistakes, I added to the equation the necessity for intention; one has to want something to turn to gold for the stone to turn it to gold."

"Right so if I bonked Albus with this he wouldn't turn to gold…?"

Nicolas nodded. "Unless you wanted him to turn to gold, in which case I would be very upset with you."

"And I," said Albus.

"But different people choose to interpret how to turn things to gold differently. Penny, for instance…"

Nicolas conjured a rose. Penny took the stone from Harry and waved it, like a wand, at the flower. The flower turned immediately to gold. She handed the stone back to Harry.

"Right," said Harry. "What next?"

"Now, produce the elixir of life," said Nicolas.

"And how do I…No, let me guess. Try?"

Albus, Nicolas and Penny nodded.

Harry tapped the recently gold goblet with the stone and watched as it…

Did absolutely nothing.

He looked up at Nicolas, expectant.

"Well?" asked Nicolas.

"It didn't work."

"Did you try?" asked Penny.

"Yes."

"Well…try again," said Nicolas.

Harry tried again. He tapped the stone against the goblet and it rung like a bell, but nothing happened.

"How odd," said Nicolas. "Perhaps Fawkes is interfering? Allow me."

Harry couldn't feel Fawkes interfering, but handed Nicolas the goblet and stone nonetheless. Nicolas held the stone above the goblet and squeezed the stone like a lemon. A sparkling transparent liquid seeped from his hand as he squeezed and fell into the goblet. He handed Harry the goblet and licked his fingers.

"The best flavor in the world…Life," he said. "Drink up, Harry."

Harry hesitated just a moment before lifting the goblet to his lips. He tasted gold, and continued tasting gold even as he tipped the goblet. He'd tipped it all the way upside down before he could confirm, quite confidently, that there was nothing at all in the goblet.

"There's nothing in here," he said.

Albus frowned. "Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm just fine, Albus, but there's nothing in the goblet."

Albus put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry knew he was trying to snap Harry out if Fawkes was taking over. "Is it Fawkes?"

"No," said Harry. "I really don't think so. If you want me to try again with your hand there…"

Harry handed the goblet back to Nicolas and Nicolas produced another batch of elixir. Harry took the cup, sloshed around the contents a bit, and, with Albus's hand on his shoulder, tipped the cup over his mouth.

And again, there was no liquid to pour.

"Nothing," said Harry.

"How odd," said Nicolas. "Perhaps if I…" He conjured a chair and motioned for Harry to sit in it. Harry sat in it. "Would you tilt your head back, Harry, and open your mouth?" Harry obliged. Nicolas held the stone directly over Harry's mouth and squeezed. The elixir of life trickled from Nicolas's fist, fell towards Harry's face, and vanished before making any contact.

"Well," said Nicolas, "that's…interesting." He was silent for a moment. "Harry…may I speak to you outside?"

"Er…yeah." Harry followed him back out of the gold room. Nicolas made sure that they were out of earshot, a few rooms over, before turning to Harry.

"I'm not really sure how to phrase this…but…are you already immortal?"

"Er…not to my knowledge. Well. Maybe. Er…You know how I have that invisibility cloak?"

"I thought of that, but the cloak alone wouldn't be enough to negate the effects of the elixir. You would have to be master of all three Deathly Hallows."

"Oh." Harry swallowed.

"You're not."

Harry didn't say anything.

"But Albus has the wand."

"It favors me as well. It's a long story."

"But the stone's long lost."

"You said it yourself—I'm a man out of time."

"You have traveled from the past?"

"The future. There was an incident with a very large time turner."

"And you had the stone?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know where it is now?"

Harry looked at Nicolas warily.

"I do not seek it," Nicolas said. "I am already immortal and do not wish to summon ghosts from my past."

"Yeah. I do know where it is. Its last owner didn't know what it was. He hid it in his grandfather's old house." He realized it was silly to worry about Nicolas trying to steal the stone; he knew for a fact that Albus had found it years later in Gaunt's shack and try as he might, he could not change the future.

"So you, Harry Crockett, know the whereabouts of all three Deathly Hallows and are Master of Death?"

Harry yawned, suddenly feeling tired. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Meaning you are immortal."

Harry was feeling more and more weary. "Never thought about it that way…" He yawned again. Maybe Nicolas wouldn't mind if he sat down for a moment. He looked at the floor below him and let himself fall.

Albus burst into the room just in time to see Harry burst into flames and shrink to the floor as a phoenix.

"Nicolas, Penny, now!"

Penny dashed into the room and the three of them all cast spells at the phoenix on the ground. Albus hurried forward and put a hand on the phoenix's head.

Harry awoke, his vision oversaturated and low to the ground. A hand was on his head, the contact singing in his mind.

"Harry?" he heard.

He looked up and saw Albus. His heart raced with joy. All of his emotions seem to have heightened; he bet he could teleport a lot more easily in the phoenix shape.

"Fawkes can't teleport out of here. There's an enchantment on Shell Cottage that prevents it."

Harry nodded, his head bobbing up and down on his long feathered neck. Somewhere through his extreme emotion he wondered why Nicolas would have enchantments on his house that prevented phoenix teleportation.

"We're holding you in your animagus state," he continued. "Do you think you could be stable in it on your own?"

Harry thought for a moment. With Albus's hand gently stroking the feathers on his head, he could probably do anything. He nodded. Penny and Nicolas lowered their wands. Albus kept Harry's wand raised, but Harry could feel that he was no longer trapped in the phoenix form.

This was the first time that Harry was conscious and in control while in the shape of a phoenix. Besides his vision going into the infrared spectrum and his emotions being much more powerful and passionate, he could sense something else about the people in the room…It was like he could sense the purity of their spirit, and he wanted to cheer for it.

"We prepared for the possibility that the stone wouldn't work," said Albus in a soft voice while still petting Harry's head. "I thought it would be possible that Fawkes's immortality might interfere with the stone, though it seemed doubtful. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but if you had known, Fawkes would have known. I spoke to Penny and Nicolas about it this morning—I am very sorry for going behind your back. I had thought that using the stone would work. Regardless, since you are already in your phoenix form, I thought it would be prudent to get started on your other plan to make a potion. I gave it some thought, and concluded that phoenix feathers and tears—most specifically yours—are probable ingredients for a potion, though I have not finished drafting a recipe."

Harry nodded.

"So, Harry, is there any way you could—"

Harry beat him to it. He shook his tail in just a particular way that he dislodged a loose feather. Albus caught it and smiled.

"Now, I'm not even sure that your tears have regenerative powers. I shall need a wound to test…"

Albus took his hand off Harry's head and used Harry's wand to conjure a small knife. Harry's eyes widened in shock, but before he could react Albus quickly sliced into his own palm. Harry gasped in horror as blood trickled down Albus's wrist. His new heightened emotions obscured everything else. His vision became clouded as tears burned their way to his eyes and out where—where Albus caught them neatly in his palm where they healed the cut, and then let the tears drip into a small vial. Harry squeezed the last tear out and glared up at Albus, annoyed that he'd been tricked into crying so easily.

Albus smiled gently. "So compassionate…Can you change back now? We should begin our work."

Harry nodded. He took off and landed again behind a large armchair before remembering the feelings of his humanity and pulling himself back into his human form. Before he knew it, he was standing behind the chair feeling rather drafty. Albus flicked Harry's wand and Harry found himself clothed in, as usual, purple robes. At least they were better than Fawkes's gold choice.

"Are you ready to go, Harry?" Albus asked.

"Yeah, just a moment. Nicolas—why is your house phoenix proof in the first place?" Harry asked.

"Good question," replied Nicolas. "Have you ever heard of Archimedes?"

"From geometry, yeah," said Harry.

"Not quite. I speak of Archimedes, the black phoenix, the familiar and betrayer of Merlin. In the days before I invented the Stone, I was lent aid from a phoenix companion, Rudolph, who has, for centuries since, visited me every Christmas to help me deliver gifts. Archimedes did not like that a phoenix was helping a wizard gain immortality and began attacking both Rudolph and me. Rudolph taught me to safe this place from a phoenix and Archimedes found better things to do than plot vengeance against me for my alleged crimes against phoenix kind. As I said, Rudolph and I have been able to make our rounds every Christmas without any trouble from him. That being said, I suggest you keep your unfortunate incidents with Fawkes a secret, lest he hear about them and hunt you down."

"Wait, let me get this straight. You're Santa Claus?"

Albus chuckled.

"Well, who else could do it? Didn't you ever wonder how you found all of your gifts at the foot of your bed every Christmas morning?"

"I…thought it was…magic?" said Harry weakly.

"Don't be absurd. How could magic deliver all of those presents to the right people in one night?"

"But…then…how do you do it?"

"Well, the elves help."

"You've got to be joking."

"House elves from every wizarding household in Great Britain bring all of the gifts here. My own sizeable house elf staff caters to the wizarding families without elves. They all help sort the gifts, and then Rudolph and I deliver them. Phoenixes can carry immensely heavy loads, so he and I can carry everything. Rudolph teleports us from house to house delivering the gifts at the foot of each witch or wizard's bed. We use a time turner. It takes about a week's worth of nights, which is why it helps that I am immortal. I've got all the time in the world."

"Well, how did the muggles hear about this?"

"Who knows," said Nicolas. "I don't deliver their gifts. Then again, they've heard of all of our magical creatures and don't think they're real, as well."

"But I thought Santa Claus was supposed to be a fat man with a beard," said Harry.

"I've lost some weight in the last few centuries…"

"Well…I'm not sure if you've spoiled my childhood or validated it, but…wow. Well done."

"Yes, anyway, the point of this conversation was not to discuss my annual moonlighting as Santa Claus. I was quite serious about Archimedes. He's still around, and it's said that it was he who tricked Merlin himself into death."

"Wait, what?"

"Harry, it's time we left," said Albus. "We need to start on this potion."

"Right," said Harry. "Nicolas, we should talk…"

"Of course Harry. Perhaps when you've freed Fawkes. After all, we have all the time in the world."

And that's when it hit Harry that he might live forever.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Albus and Harry work on the potion—but can they get the right ingredients?

**A/N: So. Hope you enjoyed that. Review, please. I have **_**no **_**freaking clue when the next chapter will be up, but your reviews will help make it sooner.**


	54. Double, Double

**A/N: Short chapter, but it just sort of…ended and I couldn't reboot it. Anyway, this has been beta'd by God. Thank you, God. If God missed anything, it was meant to be. That, or he changed grammar. That, or he was too busy to actually edit this and he was fibbing when he beamed it back to me smiling and nodding like he does. (Dear God, if you exist and are reading this, please do not smite me for throwing your name about frivolously, writing trashy fanfiction, and eating way too many tater tots at breakfast last Saturday. Oh, and God? Please review).**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_Previously:_

_Harry has turned into a phoenix animagus, but now Fawkes, who has been co-habiting Harry's body, is taking control. Harry can gain his control back whenever Albus is around, but they're not sure how long that will last. Harry and Albus have decided that it would be best to get Fawkes a new body. After a visit with Nicolas Flamel, Harry and Albus realize that Harry can't use the stone to get Fawkes's body back. Harry and Albus go back to the potion plan._

* * *

Harry and Albus bade Nicolas and Penny goodbye ("Goodbye, Nicolas, goodbye Mrs. Claus") and Harry teleported himself and Albus back to Albus's office.

"So shall we get started, I—"

"Albus."

"Have the feathers and the tears and—"

"Albus."

"A few ideas to write down already and—"

"_Albus_."

"Yes, Harry? What is it?"

"I…just wanted to say thank you for…having a backup plan back there."

"Oh, Harry, you're welcome, though I thought you were angry with me for plotting behind your back and forcibly restraining you."

"Of course not," said Harry. "If Fawkes had gotten in control and somehow made it out of the house, it would have made both our lives more difficult. So. Thank you." He had to catch himself before he said, "you can forcibly restrain me any time you want."

They were both silent for a while, and the moment was getting a little too touching, so Harry interrupted.

"So. What's this potions idea you had?

* * *

It took them four hours, but Harry and Albus finally managed to assemble an ingredients list and rough procedure for the base of the potion. It took Harry's knowledge of Voldemort's rebirthing ritual, Albus's considerable knowledge in potions theory, a fire call to Slughorn and three fire calls to Nicolas before they had a sound potions structure.

It was an interesting experience for Harry, who had never invented a potion before, nor any magic. This particular potion drew not only on his knowledge of potions, but on transfiguration, charms, astronomy, and care of magical creatures. He wasn't sure if it was just spending time with Albus or if he actually liked inventing potions, but he had a fantastic time. He loved watching Albus's eyes light up when he solved a problem or had an idea. Harry found that he could keep up fairly well intellectually, and often found himself getting just as excited as Albus over figuring out a piece of the puzzle.

So after two hours, they had a recipe and a set of instructions—a very complex set of instructions with some very difficult ingredients.

1.) In gold cauldron (large enough to fit a man and a phoenix), heat phoenix tears on medium flame for ten minutes (or until potion turns golden brown).

2.) Add puree of mandrake root (one arm's worth from a baby mandrake) and stir counterclockwise seven times. (Potion should turn black).

3.) Tie two unicorn tail hairs in a circle, and drop evenly on the surface (potion should turn transparent).

4.) When the unicorn hair circle sinks to exactly half way down the potion, drop a beazor in the center of the circle. The beazor and hair should reach the bottom of the potion at the same time. When the beazor hits the bottom of the cauldron, remove it with a set of gold tongs smithed by Harry.

5.) Let stew on low flame until sunset.

6.) Under the light of the green flash at sunset, light the surface of the potion on fire and stir with Harry's phoenix feather until flames turn red. Allow to burn until sunrise.

7.) Twenty minutes before sunrise, feed Harry Flame Freezing draft and submerge him to the neck in (still lit) potion.

8.) At seven minutes until sunrise, start addition of main three ingredients.

And that's as far as they'd gotten. They'd gotten stuck around what the main three ingredients should be.

"When I saw the ritual," repeated Harry, "his servant used bones from his dead father 'unknowingly given,' blood from his enemy 'forcibly taken,' and flesh from the servant 'willingly sacrificed.'"

"Yes, Harry, but we do not know what comparable ingredients will work for our formula."

"Well, what about the tears and feathers?"

"The concept of those objects seems…solid, but…we cannot use the same ingredients in the base of the potion and in the ritual part at the end. They will cancel each other out."

"Well, what if we use a different phoenix's tears and feathers for the first part."

"Good idea, but I still think that would dilute the magic…but…It may just work. What about the third ingredient? Think about what makes Fawkes himself…"

"Well, his self sacrifice, for one," said Harry. "And his compassion."

"What else, Harry?"

Harry pictured Fawkes, and immediately it came to him—a song. Music filled his mind and his whole body, and he knew what the last ingredient had to be.

"His song," said Harry. "His spirit."

"Yes, but Harry, how are we supposed to put his song into a potion?"

"Memory," said Harry simply. "We add a memory."

"Oh. OH! That's brilliant! A memory is a powerful magical substance—I don't know why I didn't think of it before…Do you have memory of his song?"

"Of course," said Harry, remembering the first time he ever heard Fawkes sing: in the Chamber of Secrets when he'd lost all hope, and the phoenix song carried him to a place of bravery and strength.

"Excellent," said Albus.

"Well, should we get started on the potion?"

"We should look this over again tomorrow to make sure we didn't make any mistakes. We'll need to gather supplies, and time it so that we start a good amount of time before sunset."

Harry looked outside. The sun had long since set. It was hard to imagine that it was still the same day when Fawkes, in Harry's form, had dueled Albus. Most of the students and many professors had left during the day, so the castle was quieter.

"What time is it?" asked Harry.

"Ten-o-clock," said Albus. "Are you hungry?"

The second Albus asked, Harry realized that he was ravenous. "Yeah," he replied. "Fancy a walk to the kitchens?"

"Absolutely—I just don't fancy the walk back up," Albus smiled.

"I can take care of that," said Harry.

The two of them chatted all the way down to the kitchens, through their dinner, and back up to Albus's office without remembering to teleport.

"So," asked Albus while preparing some tea, "why, do you suppose, is it that my presence or physical contact with me can bring you back to control?"

Harry had been dreading that question.

"I don't know," he responded. "Maybe Fawkes recognizes your aura and backs off, or something," he invented.

Albus hummed in thought as he brought poured tea into a cup for Harry and one for himself. "Well, unless we can come up with a way to make sure you to remain in control, I think you'll have to stay the night with me." He sat down in the chair across from Harry.

Harry was silent for a moment, processing what Albus had said.

Stay the night.

He was going to have to.

Stay.

The.

Night.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I really don't think there's another option. I hate to inconvenience you."

Overnight. In bed. With Albus.

If he refused, he could wind up out of control flying around Egypt, for all he knew.

An image flashed into his mind of himself and Albus in matching purple pajamas eating lemon scones in bed.

No, this was purely business. Business that could get messy if they slept in the same bed for a night.

"No, you're right. It makes sense," he heard himself say. "I don't want to end up in Egypt or something."

He almost smacked himself.

"Tomorrow you can try smithing a pair of tongs. We'll get the gold from Nicolas."

Harry nodded.

"And we can go get the ingredients for the potion."

Harry nodded again.

"Harry, you look exhausted."

"Really, I'm fine."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

Harry was about to reply with "of course," but he actually didn't know.

"Probably not," he said. "But let's talk about the tongs." He wanted to procrastinate being in bed with Albus until he came up with a game plan…

"Alright."

Harry leaned back in the armchair, and closed his eyes to think. When he opened his eyes, he was lying in purple satin sheets, bathed in sunlight with Albus looking down at him with a silver tray in his arms.

"Good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well? Would you like a lemon scone?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	55. Toil and Trouble

**A/N: New chapter. This is about blacksmithing. I actually am a blacksmith (as a hobby, that is-not professionally), so if you tell me for writing it unrealistically, I will laugh at you. Enjoy.**

* * *

"While you were sleeping," said Albus over a breakfast of scones, "I did some research. Unfortunately, gold's melting point is such that the tongs will melt in our potion. I believe we will have to enchant the gold to achieve a higher melting point."

"Oh," said Harry. "Am I still going to be able to…what was it…cold-forge them?"

"You could have cold-forged regular gold because it is so soft, but I believe the gold will take on the consistency of steel, and thus have the forging temperature and melting point of steel which is much higher."

"Why can't we enchant the gold after I'm done forging the tongs?" Harry asked.

"I fear that you have to do all of the work from a certain point, and if I interrupt it with an enchantment, the tongs will be invalidated. And as you are unable to do this type of magic at present, we have no choice but to do it in this order. I'm afraid you will have to learn to blacksmith."

"Blimey…"

Firstly, you will need a large metal object of some sentimental value to you.

"Uh…"

"Steel is probably the best. Wrought iron would also suffice, but it is harder to smith."

"I need to find a hunk of steel that I'm sentimental about?"

"Can you think of anything?"

"What, do you have a hunk of steel that you are sentimental about?" asked Harry incredulously.

"I found myself thinking of pieces of Hogwarts…perhaps some hinge or support beam?"

"I guess we should go find something, then."

* * *

They set off walking around the castle. There were very few students left at Hogwarts; most of them had left that morning for the break. Those students who were left were mostly in their common rooms. The castle was fairly quiet for Albus's and Harry's search.

Unfortunately, every hinge they found was too small, and most of the torch brackets were in the dungeon, which Harry was _not _sentimental about. The castle did not seem to have any support beams made out of metal; the whole structure was stone and magic. They finally reached the great front doors, which did have sizeable hinges and many ornate patterns in wrought iron, but Albus was unable to remove any due to the enchantments on the castle.

"What about the gate?" wondered Harry.

"The entry to the school? Most certainly wrought iron," said Albus, "but even more certainly protected by enchantments."

"Wouldn't hurt to check, though," said Harry. "Fancy a walk? I've nothing better to do with my Saturday."

They opened the heavy front doors and strode off across the snow-covered lawn.

They reached the front gates. Harry had been thinking of metal all day, and there, in front of him, was the biggest piece he'd seen all day. The wrought iron gates were so intricately sculpted; Harry wondered, for the first time, how it was possible to achieve a design so fluid out of a material so unyielding. Was magic involved? Albus answered him.

"Those were created by muggle blacksmiths back when the castle was created for its original owners."

"I thought the founders of the school built it."

"Indeed not. It was left to the founders by a descendant of the original owners. It was originally commissioned by a very wealthy and powerful family. The name of the family has since been lost."

Harry shrugged.

Unfortunately, they found, the gates were, indeed, guarded too heavily by enchantments to lift even an ounce from the twisted shapes of metal.

"Damn," Harry swore when Albus stopped chanting. "This is enough metal to make a train, but we can't use any of it."

"Sorry, what was that, Harry?" asked Albus.

"I was just saying it's so frustrating that all of this metal's here but we can't use it. Water, water everywhere but not a drop to—"

"No, about the train…"

"Oh, I know this isn't _actually _enough metal to make a train."

Albus's eyes twinkled violently and he quickly grabbed Harry's hand, dragged him through the open gates, and suddenly Harry found himself vanishing into the space of apparition.

When they appeared again, they were standing on the train platform in Hogsmeade.

"Blimey…warn me first. I'm not used to apparating like that anymore. What are we doing here anyway?"

"The tracks, Harry. They're solid steel—probably of high quality steel, as well."

"Oh." Harry thought about it. He was most certainly sentimental about the Hogwarts Express. Even his perimortem dream in the fog with Dumbledore was at platform 9 ¾. These tracks were his path home.

"Can we just…take tracks? Won't that…derail the train?"

"Look over there," said Albus, pointing off to the side of the tracks. There, poking out of a pile of snow, was a piece of unused track. "There are always pieces of track lying unused by the side of a railroad. To make sure it's sentimental enough, we'll use a piece that's in the track already, and put a new piece in its place."

Harry shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

Using Harry's wand, Albus conducted the railroad spikes to loosen themselves from one section of track. The twenty foot rail lifted itself out of place and set itself down onto the platform. Then, Albus levitated one of the pieces of track from the pile, removed the rust with an extra flick of his wand, and set it down where the old piece had been.

"Can you imagine having to lift one of these without magic?" Harry asked, bending over the piece of track. "I bet it would take six…or maybe eight strong people to lift." He put one hand one the rail, grabbed it and tugged, testing just how heavy it was.

To his surprise, he lifted it as easily as if it were made of balsawood. He lifted the entire twenty foot steel rail off the ground and balanced it in his hand.

"Harry, that is over one thousand pounds of steel."

"It doesn't feel like it. Are you sure it's steel?"

"Harry, this is incredible. Not only can you perform phoenix teleportation, you also have the phoenix's ability to lift immensely heavy loads."

"That's just great. Of course, at this point I'd trade my kingdom for a solo trip to the bathroom."

* * *

They finished putting the new section of railroad into the track and teleported back with the old one ("I'm driving this time," said Harry before he teleported them back his way). The piece of railroad stretched across nearly all of Albus's office. Firstly, they needed to cut it down into appropriately sized pieces. Albus tried using Harry's wand as a torch to cut the metal, but the railroad was too thick.

"I thought I'd try the old fashion way," he said. Harry smirked, laughing at the idea that a magical torch was the old fashioned way. Albus waved the wand and a two foot long piece broke off one end of the track. Albus continued slicing and dicing the metal until he had a pair of identical bars about an inch in diameter and two feet long.

"Excellent," said Albus. "Now we will call Nicolas."

Nicolas and Penny were at home, so Harry teleported himself and Albus there.

"We were just about to leave for a lunch in Costa Rica," said Nicolas. "I'm glad you caught us. I presume you would like to do some alchemy? Have you the steel?"

Albus held up the two rods of steel.

They opened up the room where the stone was, Harry used the stone to change the steel into gold and they were on their way within ten minutes.

Back in Albus's office, Harry got a house elf to bring them some lunch while Albus chanted over the two, now gold, bars. Albus finished up and joined Harry for lunch.

"The bars are now the consistency of steel. I've tested them with a file. The tooth marks don't show up as much, so the metal has hardened."

He waved Harry's wand twice. A very large and oddly shaped hammer appeared along with a pair of heavy steel tongs.

After they were finished eating, Nicolas showed up at Albus's door and started giving Harry instruction on Blacksmithing.

"First you'll need a space where there are no objects that could potentially light on fire or explode."

Albus waved his wand and a large space cleared in the center of his office. The stone floor was exposed to make a fifteen foot diameter circle.

"Albus, you don't want him blacksmithing in here. Your office will smell like soot for weeks."

"And be covered in soot too, I presume. You said the same thing about the dragon blood, and I cleaned that all up. Proceed."

"Now…here's an anvil." Nicolas waved his wand and a large steel anvil appeared in the center of the space. The anvil was bolted down to a two foot block of wood, which brought the surface of the anvil to just below Harry's waist level.

"And you need a forge," said Nicolas.

"Hold on a moment, Nicolas," said Albus. "Harry…Why don't you try heating the metal yourself."

"Er…ok," said Harry.

He went and picked up the pair of steel tongs and grabbed one of the gold bars with it. He then concentrated on the gold bar, and tried to conjure his phoenix flames.

Immediately, the bar burst into flames.

"Hmm," said Nicolas. "I don't believe it will get hot enough. You have to focus the fire more. Blacksmiths don't use campfires, after all. They use large coal fires with a bellows to direct the flame and pump in more air."

Harry didn't really understand what that would look like, not really knowing what a bellows was, but redoubled his efforts. He focused on making the flames faster, hotter, more concentrated, and the gold began to glow.

"That's good, Harry," said Nicolas. "May I see that for a moment?"

Harry handed him the tongs. Nicolas dropped the tongs immediately with a shout.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, alarmed.

Albus quickly levitated the bar and tongs and set them down on the anvil so that nobody stepped on them.

"All of the bones in my hand have exploded," replied Nicolas with a grimace. Harry looked to see that Nicolas's hand did, indeed, look like it had been barbecued on the outside and exploded from the inside.

"What? But how?" asked Harry, mostly wondering how Nicolas was still talking instead of shrieking in pain.

Albus appeared next to Nicolas with a tiny vial. He then conjured a seat and pushed Nicolas down into it before carefully pouring the contents of the tiny vial over Nicolas's hand.

"Phoenix tears…thank you Albus," sighed Nicolas. "Yours, I presume?" he asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Dono—But why did your _bones explode?_"

"Steel gets so hot," he explained calmly, "that it can vaporize the liquid in bones so fast that they expand and the bones can't take the pressure, so they explode."

"But the tongs weren't hot."

"They were, Harry. You seem to be immune to heat at the present," said Albus.

"I'm so sorry, Nicolas," said Harry, horrified.

"I've had worse," he replied, flexing his almost-healed hand.

"But…the tongs weren't even glowing!" said Harry.

"Steel can be 700 degrees without turning red," said Nicolas. "Generally, it's important to always test everything in a blacksmith shop before grabbing it. I would have had I been aware of your heat resistant at present."

Albus put his hand over the gold rod, feeling its heat radiating out.

"Albus—test it with the back of your hand," said Nicolas. "The reflexes in our hands are such that if we touch something hot, our muscles will contract, and we will grab whatever we were testing."

"Goodness, that would be bad. I learn something new every day," said Albus.

Nicolas spent the afternoon teaching Harry how to blacksmith. Apparently he'd trained under a master for ten years in the early eighteen hundreds. Said master blacksmith required that Nicolas make five hundred points (a short rod with a pointy end) before moving on to hooks (points bent into a hook shape). Fortunately for Harry, Nicolas only required five points.

"I really don't see the point, so to speak, of doing any of these at all," said Harry before making his first point. He had his hammer in his right hand and a pair of tongs gripping a small rod of iron in his left.

"Humor me," said Nicolas.

Harry lay the bit of steel down on the anvil and took a swing at it.

He missed, and the hammer bounced high off the anvil with a resounding bell tone.

Harry muttered something under his breath about bigger pieces of metal probably being easier to hit and swung the hammer again.

This time he hit the metal, but it had already cooled down too much to make any sort of difference. He reheated it with his magical phoenix fire power and took another few, significantly smaller, swings with the hammer trying to get the end of the piece of steel to resemble a point. When he was done making the point, a good fifteen minutes later, he showed it to Nicolas.

"Good," said Nicolas. "Now make a better one."

By the time Harry was on his fifth point, he could get it done in only two heats (which, Nicolas informed him, was at least twice as long as it takes a "real" blacksmith) and make it look fairly neat.

"Now," said Nicolas, "take this." He handed Harry one of the gold bars. "Work on lengthening it. Switch bars every heat so that they are as similar to each other as possible. Do that until they're both about three feet long and thinner at one end."

"Oh," said Harry. "Ok. How long should that take?"

"I don't know. Maybe a day. Call me when you are done."

"A day?" Harry asked, stricken.

"Well, you're a new blacksmith, so maybe more like two days."

"Great," muttered Harry.

And with that, Nicolas bade them farewell and stepped into the fire and was whisked away.

Harry sighed. "What are you going to do while I'm doing this?" he asked Albus.

"I? I will read." He swept to his chair, grabbed a book, and put his feet up on the desk.

The hours went by marked by the rustling of turning pages and the ringing of the anvil. Twice Harry asked Albus to transfigure him a bigger hammer because he felt like he wasn't making fast enough progress. A heavier hammer hit harder and moved more metal. With Harry's increased strength, he could wield a large sledge hammer in one hand. Regardless, he wasn't finished thinning the metal by dinner, and at eleven, Albus insisted that he stop.

"I can work through the night," said Harry.

"I am sure you can. I, on the other hand, need to sleep and cannot leave you alone."

"Oh," said Harry. "Alright. Er…"

Albus looked at Harry over his half moon glasses and smiled.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Albus used Harry's wand to conjure a mirror and pointed it at Harry. Harry was covered in little bits of metal and soot. He laughed at his reflection.

"Excellent," said Harry.

Albus pointed Harry's wand at Harry and said "_Scourgify!"_ Harry was immediately clean—and in pajamas.

They chatted their way up the stairs and into the Headmaster's bedroom. Harry worried about the long hours sleeping side by side with Dumbledore, but he was so tired from blacksmithing all day that the second his head touched the pillow he was immediately unconscious.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, again, I am a blacksmith, so I couldn't help myself. I had to add this chapter. Anyway, revie****w, please.**


	56. Fire Burn

**A/N: Hello. Here's a chapter for you. This has not been beta'd, and if you read on my profile…I just got this error message in my master Shiny and Blue Microsoft Word doc that said "There are too many spelling or grammatical errors in "ADHP Master" to continue displaying them. To check the spelling and grammar of this document, choose Spelling and Grammar from the Review tab." I laughed really hard and then was irritated that I couldn't fix my spelling in my master doc—but it was still pretty funny. I just hit 400 pages single spaced, so…woot.**

**Oh. By the way, I'm not a *professional* blacksmith. I just do it as a hobby. I'm making a sword right now. It's going to be shiny. If you have any ideas about what I should name it, send it in a review or personal message. =)**

**Anyway. Chapter. Enjoy.**

* * *

_**Previously:**_

_Fawkes is partially in control of Harry's body, and Harry and Albus are trying to get him a new body of his own. The Philosopher's/Sorcerer's stone didn't work on Harry because he's already immortal, so Harry and Albus are trying to make a potion that will get Fawkes a new body._

* * *

It was three in the afternoon on Sunday the 22nd of December 1957. The sun was low in the sky, and Harry had just finished his pair of gold tongs. They were crude and loose, but they would work for what Harry and Albus needed for the potion. It had taken all day for Harry to finish the tongs, but Harry was still proud of the fact that he did it in less time than Nicolas said he would.

It was three in the afternoon, and sunset was at 3:54, so Harry and Albus started making the potion.

Albus provided a huge cauldron, which Nicolas then turned to gold using the stone, and Albus enchanted it to withstand high heat. They had used all of the phoenix tears on Nicolas's exploded hand, so Harry turned back into a phoenix and Nicolas and Albus goaded him into crying again (which was not difficult; Harry's emotions were so volatile in his phoenix state that he could basically cry on demand). Once they had a substantial amount of tears, they poured them into the bottom of the cauldron. The tears barely moistened the whole bottom and Harry expected them to evaporate immediately when he lit the flame, but, as Albus assured, they didn't.

After about eight minutes, Harry checked the cauldron and was shocked by what he saw.

"Albus—I think there's something wrong with the potion."

"Oh no, what is it?"

"The cauldron—it's over three quarters full!"

"Ah, yes. Did I not mention? Phoenix tears expand when they are heated."

"I knew that—but I didn't know they expanded this much! This is…it's like—"

"Magic? Yes. Amazing creatures," said Albus. "Didn't you wonder how you were going to submerge yourself in a potion if you thought there was only a little bit at the bottom?"

"…No," said Harry sheepishly.

The phoenix tears in the cauldron began turning a golden brown color, so Harry and Albus added the puree of mandrake root.

While Harry was making his pair of tongs, Albus had spent the day preparing ingredients for the potion like the mandrake root puree.

Harry stirred the potion counterclockwise seven times with a golden rod, and the potion got darker and darker with each turn until it was black.

Next was the most difficult step: the unicorn hair and the bezoar. Harry had to put a circle of unicorn hair on the surface of the potion, and when it sank to exactly half way down the potion, he was supposed to drop a bezoar through the center of it. Albus had created a little charm that would track the bezoar's altitude, and using trigonometry that was significantly over Harry's 11 year old British public school level, determine the half way point in the potion and create an alarm that would go off right before the unicorn hair hit that point.

So Harry carefully picked up the circle of unicorn hair—two hairs tied together to make a circle—and carefully dropped it in the potion so that it made a nice even ring. The potion immediately turned transparent, and Harry could see all the way to the golden bottom of the cauldron.

Harry picked up the bezoar and waited for Albus's alarm. It went off about a minute later and Harry dropped the bezoar into the potion. The potion splashed up and the splashes turned into sparks, and soon the whole surface of the potion was sparking. Harry grabbed the tongs he'd slaved over and listened closely for the thunk of the bezoar hitting the bottom of the cauldron.

When bezoar did hit the bottom of the cauldron, it hit with a loud bell tone like the anvil rather than a thunk like it would in a normal cauldron. Harry quickly reached into the potion with his gold tongs and fished out the bezoar. He noted briefly that the unicorn hair circle had dissolved in the heat, and then deposited the bezoar into a pan in Albus's hands.

Albus pointed his wand at the flames below the cauldron and made them shrink down to a low blaze.

"Ok," said Harry. "Now…we wait?"

Albus looked at the watch Harry had given him with the planets.

"About a half hour, I think. We should move to a place where we can see the sunset. Perhaps my chambers? There is a large, West-facing window."

"Oh, oops. I guess we should have started up there. I forgot."

"Fortunately, the situation is easily remedied." He pointed Harry's wand at the cauldron and the whole cauldron and fire lifted itself off the office floor. "After you?"

They marched up to Albus's bedroom with the floating cauldron and fire in tow.

* * *

Albus did have a very large window in his room through which they could see Hogsmeade to the South and the forest to the West and the mountains beyond all. The sun was slowly dipping towards the mountainous horizon. Harry and Albus sat on the edge of Albus's bed and looked at each other in the orange glow.

"You can do the next step," said Albus.

"Yeah. Guess so. I just…light the potion on fire? The…surface, that is." Harry was distracted by the light on Albus's face, the orange shine on his glasses.

Albus nodded and handed Harry one of his own phoenix feathers.

Their hands brushed as Harry took it. They were so close together. Harry thought he could just…lean forward. He wanted to see what a sunset would taste like on Albus's lips.

"It's almost time," said Albus looking out at the sunset.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to look directly at the sun?" asked Harry, searching for the blue behind the glare of Albus's glasses.

"Yes, but I've long since decided that it would be pointless to have eyes if I did not use them to look at beauty."

Harry smiled. "That sounds like the Dumbledore I knew…"

"Mm, yes. Your professor. Your headmaster. It is interesting having someone think of me as an old man."

"I don't," said Harry, regretting having mentioned the older Professor Dumbledore. "Not at all."

"Oh?"

"I think of you as a colleague." _Equal, _he wanted to say. "A partner." _Companion._ "A friend." _Potential lover._ "I hope you don't think of me as a student."

"I've never met you as a student, Harry. What I have seen of you as a child is akin to a photograph."

Harry was relieved. He and Albus looked at each other for another moment.

"The sun is almost down," said Albus, not looking away from Harry's face.

"So it is," said Harry looking out the window to the West.

Albus stood up and Harry followed him past the cauldron to the window. The sun sank lower and lower until it was a crescent perched on top of the mountain, then a sliver, and then just a bead of orange.

And then it was gone.

Harry missed the green flash, but Albus evidently saw it and said "Now!" Harry snapped his fingers, and the surface of the potion lit on fire with a sudden roar.

Harry bent over the now flaming cauldron and began stirring it with the phoenix feather. The feather did not shrivel in heat or catch on fire as Harry stirred, but the flames got darker and darker until they were the same color red as the feather. When they matched, Harry stopped stirring and laid the feather on the windowsill.

"Done," he said and turned to look at Albus.

In the afterglow of the sunset and in the light of the flaming potion, Albus looked back at Harry steadily.

"I don't think of you as a student; I think of you as an equal," Albus said. Harry, surprised, took a second to figure out what he was talking about. "A companion," Albus continued. He paused for a moment. "I see a lot of potential with you."

Harry nearly fainted on the spot.

* * *

Sunrise on December 23rd was at 8:05 in the morning, so Albus and Harry woke up at 7 to prepare. The potion had burned all night, and at sunrise they would add the final three ingredients.

They had prepared Harry's phoenix tears, and one of Harry's phoenix feathers. Harry had also extracted, from his mind, a memory of Fawkes. He chose the memory of Fawkes coming to his rescue in the Chamber of Secrets. It was the first moment he had heard the phoenix song and felt its infectious confidence. To get the memory out, Harry remembered the scene unfolding, and Albus used Harry's wand to extract it. It felt like pulling a loose hair from between folds of skin; it tickled a little, and it was hard to remember what it felt like when it was there in the first place.

These three ingredients (the tears, the feathers, and the memory) were the most important parts of the potion. Harry and Albus had based them off of Voldemort's ingredients: bones of the father unknowingly given, flesh of the servant willingly given, and blood of the enemy forcibly taken.

Harry was excited to put the potion to use. He'd been through a lot (being kidnapped by the phoenix that he accidentally killed, learning to blacksmith) and he was ready for an end to the long chain of unfortunate phoenix-related events.

He was jittery when he took his freezing draft at 7:45. Albus turned away and Harry self-consciously stripped off his clothing and climbed into the flaming cauldron. When only his head was visible, Albus came back over.

"I'm going to enchant your lungs to hold more air. You'll be able to be submerged for the whole seven minutes without breathing."

Harry nodded, very aware that Albus might be able to see through the flames to his nudity. Albus waved Harry's wand at Harry. Harry noticed that he no longer needed to breathe as fast. "Thanks," he told Albus.

"It's 7:58. I will start. You should be submerged." Harry ducked his head under the surface of the potion. The liquid felt cool because of the freezing draft and Harry's resistance to heat, and everything in the cauldron was reflecting gold and the red of the fire. Harry's ears were full of water, but he could hear Albus start the spell.

"_Feather from your host, willingly given, you will create a new body._" Albus dropped in a feather from Harry's animagus form.

"_Memory of your essence, lovingly contributed, you will bring back what was lost._" Albus poured in the silver memory, and it wound its way down through the potion in front of Harry's eyes.

"_Tears of your killer, grievingly shed._" Harry winced. "_You will undo what you've done._"

The potion around Harry began to boil and spark, and Harry knew the sun was rising. The potion got more and more violent, color flashing in front of Harry's closed eyes. Just when Harry felt like his lungs were going to burst, the potion stilled and darkened. He hesitated for a moment before allowing himself to bob to the surface. He wiped some potion off his face and looked at Albus.

"Did it work?" Harry asked, catching his breath.

"Is there a phoenix in there with you?" Albus asked.

Harry quickly sloshed around patting down the bottom of the cauldron, worried that there was a drowning baby phoenix somewhere…There was not.

Harry shook his head.

Albus's face fell. "Harry, I'm sorry. We'll try again."

"Yeah…" said Harry

Albus conjured a bath matt just outside the cauldron so that Harry wouldn't drip on the floor, and put a pile of clothes and a towel next to it. Then he crossed the room and sat on the end of his bed facing away from Harry.

"Do you think I can get my memory back?" Harry asked while stepping out of the cauldron and toweling the potion off. Despite the failure of the potion, he felt quite rejuvenated. He thought it probably had something to do with being submerged in phoenix tears for over seven minutes.

"Yes," said Albus. "I'll get it out when you're dressed."

When Harry was dressed, Albus stood over the cauldron and swirled Harry's wand around in the potion as if it were a fishing line and he was trying to catch a fish. Then he pulled the wand out, and Harry's memory was dangling, attached to the end.

"Would you like it back in your mind?" Albus asked.

"Guess so," said Harry.

Albus put the wand tip to Harry's head and Harry felt the memory worming its way back into his mind.

Albus sighed. "Well, what would you like to do now? Would you like some breakfast?"

Harry suddenly felt like he had water in his ears—Albus had come out all garbled. He whacked his head against his hand a few times trying to get any potion out.

"Sure…that sounds…good."

"I'll get…"

The rest of Albus's words were completely obscured.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"…"

Blackness started creeping around the edges of Harry's vision and Albus looked like he was getting farther and farther away. He felt like he was falling—and he was falling, collapsing onto the ground, but he felt like he was falling even after his vision went completely dark. Falling deeper and deeper until…

He was standing in the Chamber of Secrets. His younger self, Ginny Weasley, and Tom Riddle were in front of him, and Fawkes, the present-time Fawkes who was living inside Harry's mind and causing him so much trouble, was perched on his shoulder.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Why did Fawkes bring Harry into his memory? Are Harry and Albus going to make the potion work?_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	57. Flight of the Phoenix

**A/N: Hey guys. I got some weirdly small amount of reviews for the last chapter. What's up with that? Did it suck or something? Were you busy with finals? Let me know, eh? Anyway. Here's a chapter for you. Enjoy and review, please.**

* * *

Harry was unmistakably in his memory of his second year in the Chamber of Secrets. Not only was he there, but Fawkes was there with him. Clearly Fawkes had pulled him into the memory and was able to manifest himself there.

Little Harry and Tom Riddle were talking. Harry was crouched over Ginny's lifeless form at the foot of Salazar Slytherin's giant statue, and Tom Riddle twirled Harry's wand in his long, white fingers and then pocketed it.

Tom Riddle monologued on and on about how inane he found Ginny's writing in his diary and how he enchanted her. Harry Crockett of 1957, meanwhile, turned to Fawkes.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, annoyed. Fawkes let out a long note and stayed put.

"I think you owe me an explanation. You've been nothing but a pain in the ass."

Fawkes wrapped his long neck around so that he was glaring straight into Harry's face. The look said, very clearly, "You killed me, so shut the hell up."

Tom Riddle began to slash Harry's wand through the air, drawing out the fiery words "TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE" in front of him. He then rearranged them to say "I AM LORD VOLDEMORT." Harry could see the dumbfounded look on his younger self's face and remembered the betrayal he felt.

Tom Riddle continued to monolog about his transformation into Lord Voldemort to which little Harry responded, "You're not."

"Not what?" snapped Tom.

"The greatest sorcerer in the world."

"Dear lord, was my voice really that high?" Harry muttered.

"Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw right through you when you were at school, and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days—"

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere _memory _of me!"

Harry chuckled. When he was twelve, the memory of Tom Riddle had seen intimidating and pure evil. Looking back on it, Tom Riddle at sixteen was a whiny wannabe—a whiny wannabe with a horcrux and a basilisk, but whiny and unintimidating all the same.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" said little Harry wildly. Riddle was about to call Harry on his bluff when strange music began to fill the chamber. Fawkes shifted and then took off from Harry's shoulder and began circling the chamber, singing with his older self, a few notes higher. The music got louder and louder until there was a burst of flame near the top of one of the columns and the Fawkes from Harry's memory appeared gripping the sorting hat in his talons. He dove toward little Harry and deposited the sorting hat at his feet and perched at his shoulder.

Fawkes was now twittering madly, circling over little Harry and the memory Fawkes.

"What are you _doing?_" asked Harry incredulously following Fawkes. Fawkes swooped down and landed next to his memory self.

"Ahhh—put it in writing!" said Harry, exasperated and confused.

"That's a phoenix," said Riddle.

"Well done, Tommy," said Harry walking over to them.

"_Fawkes?_" squeaked his younger self.

"And that—that is the old school sorting hat," said Riddle.

"Outstanding. Top marks. Very clever," said Harry.

Riddle burst out laughing, but Harry was distracted by Fawkes who was waddling around little Harry and memory-Fawkes like he had to go to the bathroom.

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me, Fawkes."

Riddle yammered on and on in the background about how lame phoenixes and hats were. Fawkes had begun to mirror his memory-self's every move.

"Is this some kind of game?" Harry asked. "I'm trying to help you and you're dancing around with your…self!"

"Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…" said Tom Riddle, and then he began to started hissing and spitting at the statue. Harry was confused for a moment; he didn't remember the hissing and spitting…and then he realized that it was Parseltongue and he couldn't understand it. He worried about it for a moment until he remembered all of his non-phoenix magic was gone, including Parseltongue.

"This is your bloody fault, you know," he said to Fawkes who was still dancing around his memory self getting more and more frantic.

Meanwhile, giant mouth of Salazar Slytherin was opening and Harry watched it—this was the part where, as a child, he'd shut his eyes, so he never got to see what the basilisk looked like uncoiling from the statue. A tongue flicked out followed by a giant nose and two glowing, yellow-green eyes…

And that was the last thing Harry saw.

* * *

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry's eyes flew open to find Albus's face an inch from his own. He gave a start and Albus stood back up.

"Oh, bloody hell. What happened?" asked Harry, still irritated from Fawkes's antics.

"You were petrified," said Albus. "Well, first you collapsed and were in a sort of comatose state, and then you were petrified."

"Hello, Harry."

Nicolas was standing a few feet behind Albus.

"Nicolas helped me with the Mandrake Draft," said Albus. "He knew where to find it quickly."

"Er…thanks. How long was I…petrified?" Harry asked.

"About twenty six hours," said Albus. "We cured you as soon as we could."

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise.

"Do you have any idea how you were petrified, Harry? Was it Fawkes?"

Harry sighed in frustration. "No…not…exactly. He pulled me into a memory and I got petrified in the memory through my own stupidity."

"I am sorry, but how could you get petrified in a memory?" asked Nicolas.

"Basilisk," Harry replied, cursing himself for not remembering just how potent the basilisk's gaze could be—that it could petrify even ghosts. It was no wonder that it could petrify him in a memory with direct eye-contact. "Stupid bloody thing. Well, I guess I would have been stuck in that damn memory until I figured out Fawkes's riddle, anyway. Probably would have taken this long."

"What do you mean?"

"Er…I think Fawkes was trying to tell me something," said Harry. "Dono what it was."

"Perhaps he was trying to tell you the memory didn't work because of the basilisk?" guessed Nicolas.

"Dono, maybe. I don't think so. He kept hopping around near himself and imitating the things he was doing in the memory. Honestly, I think he's gone quite mad locked up in my head…"

"Perhaps not," said Albus. "The potion didn't work, after all. Fawkes may have been trying to show you why not."

"I guess," said Harry thinking now that that was rather obvious. "Do you have any food?" he asked suddenly. "I'm famished."

"Of course. You've been petrified for a day. Of course you're hungry." He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared with a crack. Albus gave him instructions and he vanished again into thin air.

"Did anything…er…else happen while I was asleep?" Harry asked.

"I asked Nicolas to make this tower impenetrable to phoenix teleportation," said Albus. "You're safe in here now."

Harry imagined himself leaping out an open window and teleporting in mid air.

"And the windows and doors are locked," finished Albus.

Harry nodded in relief.

A house elf appeared. "We has put the food in the dining rooms, Headmaster, Sir."

"Thank you," said Albus. The three of them ascended the stairs to Albus's dining room where several house elves were laying out way too much breakfast food for three people. "Shall I invite Penny?" asked Albus.

"I'm sure she'd like that," said Nicolas. Albus left the room to go to the fireplace.

Harry stifled a groan. He was starving. He wanted to eat and didn't want to wait for Nicolas's wife.

"Please start, Harry," said Nicolas. "Penny will understand."

"Oh, thanks," said Harry, trying to hide how grateful he actually was. Harry and Nicolas sat down to the table and Harry started indiscriminately stuffing food into his face. He hadn't eaten since dinner at least thirty six hours before. Nicolas was carefully mixing a bowl of cereal.

"You know, Harry, it's the day before Christmas," he said while pouring milk.

Harry's stomach lurched and he choked on the toast he was eating. "I didn't know," he said, after he swallowed.

"I imagined you may have forgotten given the circumstances, and if you hadn't I suspected that it would have been difficult for you to get anyone gifts being locked up here…"

"Wow, you really are Santa Clause."

"Yes. Now, is there anything I can get you for…anyone?"

"Actually…there are a few things…thanks for asking." Harry quickly told Nicolas about the transfiguration journals from the vault that he'd left in his room, and a certificate to Comede Noctem both for Minerva. He also told Nicolas what he needed for Albus's gift and finished speaking right before Albus entered the room again with Penny.

After they'd all eaten and the Flamels had left, Harry and Albus got to work on a new potion.

"This time, we'll use a different memory," said Harry. "Clearly there was something wrong with the last one."

"That sounds like a safe idea. Nicolas and I were talking and we concluded that we may need to use one of Fawkes's feathers for the last part of the potion. Do you have any?"

"Fawkes's…feathers?" asked Harry.

"Yes. Fawkes, before he died. Did he give any feathers?"

"Ah…um…only two," said Harry.

"Two is certainly enough—one would be enough. Where are they?"

"Er…we can't use either of them. One of them is in Tom Riddle's wand and one of them is in the wand that I bought—or will buy—as an eleven-year-old. I would have died if both of us hadn't had those wands."

"Is this the wand you bought when you were eleven?" asked Albus. He drew Harry's wand.

Harry didn't like where this was going. "Yes, but…it also has part of my soul in it. Remember what happened when my broom broke? I went crazy with ego and killed Fawkes. Imagine what would happen if my magic let loose."

Harry was lying. He wasn't worried about his magic exploding; he just didn't want to break his phoenix wand, though he knew it might be necessary to do so to save Fawkes. He felt a little ill at the thought of breaking his wand. As he contemplated his reluctance, though, he felt a sense of hopelessness wash over him from Fawkes until it was all he could feel. Fawkes's emotions got stronger and Harry knew that Fawkes felt betrayed that Harry wouldn't do anything to help him after all Fawkes had done for Harry.

Harry gasped under the weight of the emotion. He needed to be out from under it—he needed to get out. He felt himself running at Albus. He grabbed his wand out of Albus's hand and then dashed across Albus's study. Before he could stop himself, he dove head first at one of the large windows. The glass shattered on impact and then he was falling out the window, down from the tower. About half way down, he felt himself shrinking and his vision flared into infrared and he was no longer in control of his body. He felt a powerful surge of anger, and then he was consumed by flame. When he reappeared, he had no idea where he was and was still out of control. As he fought fading consciousness, his own hopelessness washed over him. Albus was never going to find him if Fawkes did not want to be found.

* * *

Harry had trouble keeping track of time. He was conscious for brief moments. Sometimes he was a phoenix, and sometimes he was human. Sometimes it was night, and sometimes it was day. He felt like he was drugged, and all he wanted was to be awake. He wondered, with remorse, if this was how Fawkes felt when Harry was in control. He'd been under the impression that Fawkes had been more conscious.

In the brief moments he was conscious, he tried to remember what it was that kept him grounded back at Hogwarts. Whenever he was around Albus he could stay, but Albus wasn't there now. All Harry could do was fight—and sometimes, sometimes he managed to get past Fawkes and whisper, "Albus," but he knew no one could hear him.

* * *

**A/N: Please review. Is this going too slow? Is it too confusing? Please let me know.**


	58. Lights

**A/N: Yeah. Sorry about the slowness in the last few (many) chapters. I'm working on picking up the pace. I didn't mean for this Fawkes conflict to take up so much time. That conflict is almost over; I promise. There's some new cool stuff coming up soon. And what you've all (except Matt) been waiting for. **

**Also, summer's starting, which means I'll be on a faster writing schedule. I really need you guys to review, though, or I'll publish before I get feedback. Your reviews let me know if something's confusing or too slow or something, and if you don't tell me, then I don't fix it in the next chapter. So. Please review, and I will wait to see what you guys say before posting more chapters (so that I can write in explanations if I wrote something too confusing in the last chapter). Thanks.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry didn't know how long he'd been under Fawkes's control nor where he was, but he knew that this was the tenth time that Fawkes had made him relive his memory from the Chamber of Secrets. After a few iterations of the memory, Harry considered getting himself petrified again by the basilisk in the memory, but if he were petrified he wouldn't be able to fight Fawkes if he had a moment of weakness. Petrification wouldn't get him very far either; he might end up immobile in the woods for weeks and eaten by wolves before Albus could find him.

The first few times Fawkes played the memory, Harry was glad. It was the only time when he felt at least partially in control and conscious. He walked all around the Chamber of Secrets and saw the memory from all angles and could yell at Fawkes all he wanted. Soon, though, he got quite bored of watching Tom Riddle brag and little Harry squeaking in disbelief and he realized that no matter how much he yelled, Fawkes wouldn't take him back to Hogwarts.

Fawkes, meanwhile, kept up his dance during the memories. He alternated between flying around near his memory self and twittering in Harry's face.

"Usually I know exactly what you're saying, but, for literally the life of me, I can't figure out what you want to tell me."

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere _memory _of me!" bragged Tom Riddle in the memory.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" said Little Harry for the tenth time.

"Yeah, he's not gone, but I AM," bellowed Harry, "and at this rate, I'm NEVER COMING BACK. Damn it, Fawkes."

Fawkes from the memory appeared and swooped to drop the sorting hat by Little Harry.

"That's a phoenix," said Tom and Harry at the same time. Harry knew the memory well enough to recite it.

"_Fawkes?"_ said Little Harry. Harry repeated it in a mocking falsetto.

"And _that_, that's the old school Sorting Hat," said Harry and Riddle.

"Bloody hell, get me out of here Albus. GET ME OUT OF HERE, ALBUS!"

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat. Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?" asked Riddle mockingly.

"Songbird my ass…"

"To business, Harry," said Tom smiling. "Twice in your past—in my future—we have met. And twice I have failed to kill you. _How did you survive?_ Tell me everything. The longer you talk—"

The memory stuttered and Harry was plunged into dark unconsciousness.

The next thing he knew, he was back in the weird green light of the Chamber of Secrets. His younger self had just spotted Ginny and was running to her.

"Ginny—don't be dead—please don't be dead. Ginny, please wake up."

"She won't wake," said Tom Riddle, who had been lurking in the shadows. Harry bet that if he'd gotten there a moment earlier he would have caught Tom trying to find the most dramatic spot to hide.

"Tom—_Tom Riddle?_" asked Little Harry incredulously.

"Really, Fawkes? You didn't even finish the last memory," said Harry. "If I have to watch just the first half of this over and over—it'll be like watching the same stupid three minute Flootube video over and over! Are you trying to drive me mad?"

Fawkes wasn't there. Harry couldn't find him. He wasn't twittering around as usual. He just wasn't there.

"Fawkes? This is going to be even less fun if I can't yell at you," said Harry. "Fawkes?"

Harry darted around the Chamber trying to find Fawkes. He was nowhere to be found. Harry returned to the main chamber.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" asked Riddle. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

The memory flickered out and everything went dark for Harry again. It could have been seconds or days later when he found himself back in the chamber. The memory had moved forward. "I AM LORD VOLDEMORT" was written in the air in fiery letters in front of Riddle.

"What's going on…?" Harry asked to no one in particular. Fawkes had never stopped in the middle of a memory or fast forwarded.

"You see?" whispered Tom dramatically. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry—I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

The Chamber was silent as Little Harry processed what Tom had said. Harry banged his head against a pipe a few times.

"You're not," Little Harry said finally.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Little Harry. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw right through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days."

Tom was quiet for a moment, fuming at Little Harry's contradiction.

There was a resoundingly wet sniff from behind Harry. Harry squinted. That had never happened before in this memory. He spun around, and there in the chamber, a tear glistening on his cheek, was Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus!"

"Hello, Harry."

"Is it really you, or is Fawkes—"

"It's me."

"How did you find me? _Did_ you find me? Where are we? What's going on?"

"You were in Peru. I brought you back to my office. Fawkes has agreed to cooperate but you've been here for a day and wouldn't wake up, so I thought I would see what was going on in your head. Now I must ask _you_; where are we? What is this memory?"

"Albus…welcome to the Chamber of Secrets."

"Oh—!"

Just then, they heard strange music winding down through the pipes. Harry pointed up to the top of the column, and Albus looked just in time to see Fawkes appear with the sorting hat. Fawkes swooped down towards Little Harry and dropped the sorting hat.

"A phoenix?" asked Albus.

"Yeah. Fawkes came to rescue me."

Albus squinted at the bird and walked over to Harry. "That's not Fawkes, Harry."

"Yes it is," said Harry. "Of course it is. What other phoenix could it possibly be."

Albus didn't have time to answer because the memory changed. They were in Albus's office, but Harry knew it was still a memory because there were many more silver instruments than in 1957. The office appeared to be empty.

There was a knock on the door. It opened silently and Professor McGonagall entered with Little Harry behind her. It was odd for Harry to see her old, wrinkled, and tight-mouthed after spending so much time with her as a young, spunky witch.

"You may wait here," she told him.

"Minerva…" muttered Albus, probably feeling the same as Harry about seeing their friend so withered.

Harry remembered what was coming next; his younger self would talk to the sorting hat and then, to his horror, watch Fawkes burn.

"Fawkes is here," said Harry, not wanting Albus to see his awkward conversation with the sorting hat. "Let's find him."

Fawkes wasn't hard to find. He was standing on his perch looking simply _awful_. His feathers were falling out and Harry could see his skin underneath.

"That isn't Fawkes either," said Albus.

"Of course it is. You said it was yourself, or you will, anyway, in this memory. I mean, he's hard to recognize like this, but it's still Fawkes."

"Harry, look closer. This phoenix is smaller than Fawkes. The feathers are a different color."

"But, it's his Burning Day," said Harry.

The phoenix made a gagging noise and Little Harry spun around and spotted him. The phoenix made another gagging noise and looked at Harry and Albus.

Then he _winked_ and burst into flame.

Little Harry yelled in shock and backed into Professor Dumbledore's desk. Harry blanched, not sure of what he'd seen.

Just then, Professor Dumbledore came in looking rather somber.

"Professor," little Harry squeaked. "your bird—I couldn't do anything—he just caught fire!"

Professor Dumbledore smiled.

"About time, too. He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."

Little Harry look entirely shocked. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…"

"Ah…" said Albus. "I am sorry, Harry. I seem to have mislead you—probably intentionally."

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly _faithful_ pets."

"I said that Fawkes is a phoenix, not that _this_ phoenix was Fawkes. This is something very annoying I do when I do not wish to lie but need to mislead," said Albus. "This is not, in fact, Fawkes."

And as Harry looked carefully at the tiny ugly bird in the ashes, he began to understand that it was not Fawkes. There were subtle differences in the shape of his head, in the color of his eyes.

"It's not…Fawkes," Harry repeated, trying to wrap his head around it.

The memory began to fade and soon Harry found himself lying on a bed with someone's hand grasped in his. He opened his eyes to find he was in Albus's purple bed with Albus's hand. Albus, too, had just opened his eyes.

"It wasn't Fawkes. That's why the memory didn't work. It wasn't Fawkes…How did you find me?" Harry whispered.

Albus let go of Harry's hand and grabbed something off his bedside table and showed it to Harry. Harry looked closer.

It was the Deluminator.

"I used this," he said, holding out the silver cigarette lighter. "When you disappeared I knew you hadn't done it on purpose. I created this device which allows me to find you if you want me to find you. If you or anyone else said my name in your presence, this device would lead me straight to you. I was thinking of calling it the HarryFinder."

Harry raised an eyebrow. This explained a lot. He'd been very confused about how the Deluminator worked when Ron had used it to find him and Hermione in the forest. He'd thought it had something to do with "_finding where you needed to be,"_ or "_following your heart," _not finding Harry, specifically_. _

"How did you make it?" Harry asked. He was trying very to hide his surprise that Professor Dumbledore's prized Deluminator was originally a device to find him, Harry.

"When you left, you took your wand, so I created the device with wandless magic. I managed to enchant it to turn lights on and off, too, which, as you know, has been a challenge for me. I, unfortunately, needed to borrow a wand from Nicolas to do that."

"So…you created a device to find me…and to turn off lights?"

Albus nodded. "It turns on lights as well."

"And you were thinking of calling it the HarryFinder?"

"Yes. Or the Deluminator."

"Deluminator sounds better," says Harry, trying not to smile.

"Perhaps," said Albus.

"So, what happened to Fawkes?" asked Harry.

"He's here," said Albus, "but he's promised not to do anything more (though he still won't give my wand back). I believe he ran away—or flew away, as it were—because he believed there to be no hope of him regaining a body for himself. He believed that we were unable or unwilling to carry it through all the way, but I reassured him that you and I would both do whatever it took to get him back. I suggest that we get started on the potion. We can have it ready today."

Harry gave a noncommittal nod, and then something occurred to him. "Incidentally," he asked, "what day is today?"

"It is the 31st of December."

"I've been gone near on a week?" Harry asked, his eyes going wide.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry it took me so long to find you."

"It's not your fault. Let's get working on this potion."

* * *

The two of them stirred and brewed over the vast golden cauldron all morning. Soon they were done with the base of the potion and they left it to stew until sunset. Over tea, Harry and Albus discussed the modifications they would make to the final process; the first one was that they would finish it in the Astronomy Tower instead of Albus's bedroom. Sunset was at 3:48 that afternoon, so they moved the cauldron directly after tea.

The Astronomy Tower was the highest point in all of Hogwarts, and from there Harry could see all the way across the lake, and to Hogsmeade village, and over much of the forbidden forest. The sun was low in the sky to the Southeast, soon to set behind the mountains behind Hogsmeade. Being the 31st of December in Scotland near sunset, the air was bitingly cold, but the sky was clear and Harry and Albus could easily track the motion of the sun as it blazed its way lower and lower.

The sun touched the mountain, and then it was half way hidden and Harry suddenly realized that the last time he'd been in the astronomy tower he had watching Albus die. His breath caught and he felt the panic he'd felt then, frozen and invisible. The sun sank lower and lower like Albus, poisoned, slipping down the wall.

Then the skyline flashed briefly green like Snape's Killing Curse, and Harry just barely remembered to light the potion with a snap of his fingers.

"Harry, the feather," said Albus urgently.

Harry had forgotten that he needed to stir the potion. He used one of his own feathers to stir until the flames darkened to red.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Albus asked when Harry finished stirring.

"What? Nothing. Why?" he replied, shaking himself.

"You went quite white. You looked as though you'd remembered something painful."

Harry shook his head.

"Supper?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Certainly."

They trekked back to Albus's dining room and ate. They spent the next few hours sitting around Albus's office; Albus read and Harry pretended to read.

Around ten, Albus spoke up.

"The potion needs checking. I will go."

"I'll come with you," said Harry, a bit bored. Albus nodded. They hiked back up to the Astronomy Tower.

The potion was still burning bright red, undisturbed.

"Would you like to sit here a while?" Albus asked. "We should discuss the last ingredients. There are some issues that Nicolas and I discussed while you were gone."

Harry nodded.

Albus wandlessly conjured a spacious calico sofa and he and Harry fell back into it.

"Have you selected a suitable memory of the real Fawkes?" Albus asked as he conjured a large blanket for the both of them.

"Yeah," said Harry. "The day he hatched should work."

"Good, good…" said Albus.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment.

"I have your wand," said Albus suddenly. He took it out of his robe pocket.

"Oh. I wondered where it'd gone," said Harry.

They were silent again. The afterglow of the sunset had long faded. The stars were out in numbers and the night air was getting colder. It must have been below zero, but Harry was warm. He wondered why for a moment until he remembered that it was probably something to do with his phoenix powers.

"Are you cold, Albus?" he asked.

"It is quite cold out, but you seem to be radiating enough heat for the both of us," said Albus.

Harry could have sworn that the couch got smaller and he was sitting closer to Albus than he was a minute ago. Their legs were practically touching, not that he could see them under the blanket.

They were quiet for a while longer.

"There's an ingredient that the potion needs that we didn't use last time," said Albus.

Harry was worried that he was going to bring up the matter of the feather in his wand, but he didn't.

"Something to carry Fawkes's soul to his new body."

"Oh…uh…like what?"

"Don't you still have a piece of crystal? Didn't that get part of your soul into Fawkes and then Fawkes's soul into your body in the first place?"

"Er…" Harry thought about it. "I guess so. I dunno how it works, though."

"Nicolas is under the impression that, in proximity of you and Fawkes's body, the crystal will put Fawkes's soul where it belongs while leaving yours in your body."

Harry nodded. "That…makes sense. When my broom broke—" Albus coughed. "—Fawkes went and got the crystal and used it to find the part of my soul that was floating around. It all makes sense now."

"Do you still have the crystal?"

"It's in my room." Harry grabbed Albus around the shoulder and immediately teleported them to his tower.

The tower was dark and cold. Harry hadn't been there in over a week.

"I missed that," said Albus, pulling the Deluminator out of his pocket.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Getting rides everywhere," Albus smiled. He clicked the Deluminator and balls of light flew to Harry's lamps.

Harry went and took the crystal out of the desk drawer where he kept it, returned to embrace Albus, and they were back on the sofa in the Astronomy Tower a moment later.

As soon as the flames from teleportation cleared, Harry and Albus both gasped.

The sky was ribboned with green light swirling high above them.

"The Aurora Borealis," whispered Albus. "Magnificent."

Harry, meanwhile, would have jumped and ducked behind the sofa had Albus not still been holding onto him from the teleport. Harry'd mistaken the green light for an Avada Kedavra.

"Yeah," he said half heartedly. "Magnificent."

In Harry's life, he'd never encountered any sort of green light that boded well for him; he had reoccurring nightmares about the Avada Kedavra curse killing his parents and many other people. The glowing green potion in the center of Voldemort's lake had poisoned Dumbledore and left him vulnerable before his death. The Chamber of Secrets was bathed in green light, and even the lake, in which Harry had nearly drowned in his fourth year, tinted everything an eerie green.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing."

"Are you tired? Sunrise is at eight forty-four tomorrow morning. We could go to bed if you wish."

"No," said Harry, not wanting to take Albus from his skywatching. He was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, not with all he had on his mind.

"Alright," said Albus.

Ten minutes later Harry was fast asleep, resting against Albus. The green light of the Aurora flickered off his face. His dreams were full of the green light; his parents were killed, Cedric was killed, Professor Dumbledore was killed there in that tower, and Fawkes…

Under the light of the Aurora, a tear slid down Harry's cheek. Albus took a small vial out of his robes and collected the tear. He put it back in his robes and wiped away the rest of the moisture with his thumb.

"_Tears of your killer,"_ he whispered, gently stroking Harry's hair. "_Grievingly shed."_

* * *

**A/N: Review, please. **


	59. Cauldron Bubble

**A/N: Ok. Alright. Ok. Alright. Ok. This chapter represents the culmination of a lot of things. I'm really excited about it. I've been building up to this since I started writing this story. I actually think this might be the last of the plot I planned when I started this fic. (This is not, by any means, the end of this fic. I have another hundred thousand words left of plot that I've come up with since then, I'm sure). What's funny is, when I started this story, I thought I'd get this far in no more than fifty thousand words. Ha. Ha. Ha. Not.**

**So anyway, please enjoy this chapter. I know both the plot and publishing have been slow lately, so thank you for bearing with me. It has been slow for me too, and I blame it mostly on the fact that I didn't have enough time to write faster than two thousand words a month. I'll be picking that up quite a bit over the summer. I'd actually **_**really **_**love to finish this this summer, but…that may or may not actually happen. Anyway. I hope this is what some of you have been waiting for, and I'd love to hear what you think of it. **

**Enjoy,**

**-Moonlight**

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes in the morning, it took him a moment for him to figure out where he was: he was still on the couch in the Astronomy Tower. Then he wondered how he could have possibly slept so long; the sun wasn't up yet, but the dawn light made Harry squint, it was so bright. Harry leaned forward to sit up but an arm circling his waist stopped him. He turned around to see that he'd fallen asleep leaning against Albus. Albus was still asleep, his glasses hanging off his long nose. Harry reached around and carefully pushed them back up.

Albus's eyes flew open.

"Good morning," he said. "What time is it?"

Harry shrugged. "Some time before eight forty-four."

"_Tempus!_" muttered Albus. "8:15" appeared in red numbers in front of them.

"Oi!" said Harry. They only had a few minutes to get ready for the final part of the potion.

They got up off the couch and Albus summoned a bottle of freezing draft. Harry extracted the memory of Fawkes hatching, and climbed into the cauldron by 8:20.

"Your wand, Harry?"

"What? Oh," said Harry. His stomach dropped. He'd forgotten about the last ingredient of the potion. "Where is it?"

Albus handed Harry his wand.

Harry held it in his two hands. His treasured Holly and Phoenix wand.

"—Wait," said Albus. Harry looked to him. "You know…you may never be able to do magic again?"

Harry didn't say anything. He wouldn't be able to break it if he thought about it at all. He closed his eyes, pictured Fawkes, and snapped the wand before he could even think.

Pain and nausea ripped through him; he didn't remember hurting so much when his broom broke. Maybe he'd blocked it from his memory, but breaking the vessel for his soul was like pouring acid into his spleen, cutting it in half, and then ripping it out of him. The wand clattered to the ground outside of the cauldron and Harry sank below the surface of the potion, unable to keep himself up.

Harry didn't hear the splash as Albus tossed the blue crystal into the potion, nor did he feel it when the crystal hit him on the head before sinking deeper.

"_Feather from your body, carefully preserved, you will create a new body,"_ chanted Albus, but Harry didn't hear him. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears like an ambulance siren.

The potion suddenly got hotter and lighter, rising to the surface like the liquid was no longer liquid, but fire.

"_Memory of your essence, lovingly contributed, you will bring back what was lost."_

The potion instantly turned from flaming red to the color of mercury, and it kept getting hotter. Harry's pain was ebbing just enough that he could tell he hadn't taken a proper breath before sinking below the surface. His lungs were already starting to ache. His thoughts were also clearing enough for him to wonder why his pain was fading so fast. Maybe it was the potion?

Harry remembered what came next: the tears.

But suddenly he realized, he hadn't given Albus any more tears. They'd used up the last of them on the first potion, he remembered, and they'd had to use some tears from Rudolph for the new potion's base. They would have to stop the potion and start all over. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten, and he certainly couldn't believe Albus had forgotten.

But then he heard Albus chant.

"_Tears from your killer, grievingly shed. You will undo what you've done!"_

The potion went silent.

Everything was dark.

Harry couldn't see, couldn't feel anything.

He was in the darkest night.

He was under thirty covers in a stifling, dark room.

And then the potion exploded with green light, and Harry knew he had, in fact, cried for Fawkes because he was feeling exactly what he'd felt when he'd done so, and more. He knew he was adding more tears as he sat there. His mouth was open and he gasped in potion, choking, swallowing. It was like someone had put the Aurora Borealis in the potion and now it was suffocating Harry, drowning him. He wondered how Albus could possibly find that emerald green color beautiful.

Something fluttered in front of him in the green. Something red. A tiny red sun in green outer-space, and it grew.

Then the red was a storm, twisting and shining in front of Harry's fading vision. Harry swallowed more and more potion; he was drowning. All of the breath left him, and he lost his grip on the world of red and green, favoring the black of unconsciousness.

What he didn't see was that the potion was very quickly turning all red, and fire was blossoming from the surface of the potion.

And then the surface exploded as a fully-grown phoenix rocketed out of the potion, dragging Harry with him, upside down, his talons ripping into Harry's feet to maintain a grip.

"Harry!" shouted Albus.

Potion was rushing out of Harry's open mouth and Fawkes shook him up and down in the air to get all of it out. Then, Fawkes hastily laid Harry out on the stone floor of the astronomy tower. He was naked and immobile and his feet were bleeding from Fawkes's talons.

Albus quickly knelt by Harry's head.

He checked to find that Harry's heart was beating faintly, but he wasn't breathing.

Albus pinched Harry's nose and swooped down to exhale into his mouth.

Once…twice…Albus checked his breathing again.

Three, four…

Five, six….

Seven—Harry spluttered, arching forward. He gave a few weak gurgling coughs, fighting between taking in much-needed air and accidentally drawing in more fluid from his throat.

There was a burst of flame, and Albus's wand appeared by his right knee, returned by Fawkes. Albus immediately grabbed the wand and used it to conjure a blanket for Harry.

"Harry? Can you hear me?"

Fawkes was by Harry's feet, crying to heal the wounds from his talons.

Harry's breathing slowed and his eyes focused on Albus.

"Did it work? Is Fawkes…is Fawkes alright?" he croaked.

Albus smiled. "Yes, though I admit, I thought you…"

And Harry never knew if it was his selfless act of breaking his wand for Fawkes that motivated Albus to do what he did next, or watching Harry's brush with death, or just seeing Harry all wet with nothing but a blanket on, but the next moment Albus had leaned down and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

Harry was possibly more stunned than he'd been when his wand had broken, though a completely different kind of stunned.

When he could process again, he noted that kissing Albus was ten times grander than he'd imagined, perhaps because Fawkes was free and Harry's emotions were no longer being protected.

Fawkes began to sing with joy, and his song seemed to fill the whole sky.

And then the moment was very much over as Harry had to quickly shove Albus off him in order to cough up more potion.

As soon as Harry finished coughing, Albus was stuttering in apology. "Harry—I..I don't know what came over me—you almost…I'm sorry—it…you just—I—"

Harry quickly grabbed Albus's robes and pulled him down for another kiss, and it was even more amazing than the first.

But a moment later they were interrupted by—

"What the devil's going on here?"

Quick as a Niffler, Harry was miraculously dressed. Harry and Albus quickly got to their feet to face…Minerva.

"I…I'd just gotten back and I was walking across the lawn and saw a green light coming from the tower and came up immediately," said Minerva. "I've never seen it in person—but the light looked like _Avada Kedavra _and I..."

Harry briefly wondered how Minerva could possibly have reached the age of thirty three without ever seeing an _Avada Kedavra_ curse, and then realized that it was probably more of an anomaly that he'd seen so many at such a young age.

"So, you know, I came up here to make sure everything was alright."

It occurred to Harry that Minerva was supremely uncomfortable.

"Er…Happy new year," she finished.

"Happy new year," said Harry and Albus together. Harry didn't know what to say. He had no idea what had happened between himself and Albus, nor what Minerva had saw, but he did know that this was not how Minerva should have found out about it.

"As you can see," said Albus cheerily changing the subject, "we created a potion to free Fawkes from Harry's body. It worked, though I don't know where Fawkes has gone. He was here a moment ago."

Fawkes had vanished. Harry suspected he'd be back eventually.

"I can't imagine how he possibly slipped away without either of you noticing," replied Minerva tersely. Her face was blank.

They were all quiet for a moment. Albus was looking at various points in the sky, and Harry was looking at the ground. Minerva was glaring between them.

"Thank you for the books, Minerva," said Albus. "I've always wanted to read about tropical fish."

"You're welcome," she said stiffly. "Thank you for the hat, Albus. And thank you for the book and the certificate, Harry."

"You're welcome," they both said.

"By the way, Harry," said Albus, "Nicolas left your gifts in my office a few days ago. You may retrieve them at your convenience."

"Oh…er…thanks," said Harry. He was still un-used to the idea that people would want to give him gifts at all—one of the few mindsets left over from the Dursleys.

"Right, well, I'm glad you're all better, Harry, and I really have some paperwork to do now," Minerva said very quickly. Her eyes flashed, her lips tightened into the thin line that Harry hadn't seen in a long time, and she turned and marched down the stairs with her head unnaturally high.

Neither Harry nor Albus said anything. Harry thought it would be a bit presumptuous to say anything like "she'll get over it," because he wasn't sure there was an "it" to get over or whether "it" was something that needed to be gotten over in the first place.

"Shall we to brunch, Harry?"

Harry shook off his daze and nodded to Albus. Breakfast was over, so the two of them retreated to Albus's dining room. There, they had two house elves spread a meal for them. As they sat down, a third house elf brought Harry's Christmas presents up from Albus's office.

At Albus's insistence, Harry began to open them.

Minerva had given him a book on rare magical objects. He flipped through it briefly to see that Minerva had circled all of the ones that had ever resided in Harry's vault.

Professor Flitwick had given him a Dueler's Watch—an item that would count down the incapacitation time and even help identify foreign spells—and a heartfelt note saying that he wanted to share a meal to discuss technique. Harry then remembered that Flitwick had been a dueling champion at one point and he wondered if that had occurred yet. Flitwick couldn't have been too much older than 40.

Pomona Sprout had given Harry a nifty little plant; in the dark it, and its pot, would shrink down to fit easily on one face of a galleon, but in the sun it expanded to a flowering tree about the size of a ficus.

Nicolas and Penny had given Harry a copy of a new book that they had co-authored: Magics of the World, which showed the different interpretations of magic in different countries. Just as languages are formulated differently, there were different incantation guides and different structures for enchantments. In many parts of the world, Harry learned, magic wasn't channeled through wands, but through rings or staffs or pendants.

There was also a small pile of gifts from various students; there were sweets from some of his older students, and—Harry couldn't believe it—a lumpy purple wool sweater from somebody named "Lucretia Prewett," who Harry assumed was the mother of Fabian and Gideon (and Molly). Harry unfolded it to find "DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS" written on the front in blue. Harry grinned and put it on.

Albus chuckled. "You know, you can track back for centuries—the tradition of making Christmas sweaters has been passed down for generations from mother to daughter in that family. I used to get sweaters from her mother, Melania Black when I taught Lucretia, and I was friends in school with Melania's mother, Druella McMillan. Druella's mother made me a sweater or two, too.

"That's fantastic," said Harry. "I got a sweater every year from Lucretia Prewett's daughter, Molly." Harry smiled. "And even Ginny started knitting after we had James. She said she was doing it 'ironically' to make her mother see how stupid the sweaters were, but she never stopped. I wonder if Lilly will start knitting when she grows up…"

They both fell silent. Harry realized that he may have crossed an unspoken line by talking about his family and children and former _straightness_. He hoped it didn't put Albus off.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Did…Nicolas give you any gifts from me?" Harry asked.

"Ah…no, but he did give me this. He said he wasn't quite sure what to do with it." Albus flicked his wand and a moment later a light wooden box with a hinged lid zoomed up to the table and landed in front of Harry. Harry tilted it away from Albus and peeked inside. There were the items he'd asked Nicolas for—the parts for Albus's gift that he hadn't had time to assemble.

"Excuse me, Harry. I'll be right back," said Albus. He got up from the table and left the room. This gave Harry the moment he needed.

He quickly got out of his seat and crossed his fingers—he really hoped this would work. He concentrated very hard and…

It worked! He was quickly shrinking down into his phoenix form. He couldn't believe he could still get into this form without Fawkes. He was sure something would go wrong.

He quickly shook a particularly long and shiny feather out from his body and changed back into a man. He picked up the feather and quickly fitted it into a metal quill tip (which Nicolas had taken the liberty to turn gold) with Albus's full name engraved into it. He put it back into the box, where there was also a little gold ink pot with Albus's name on it, and shut the lid just as Albus came back into the room with an iconically shaped package.

"This is for you," said Albus.

Harry looked from the package in Albus's arms to Albus's face and back.

"Albus…did you _buy _me a _broom_?" asked Harry, stunned.

"No," said Albus. He handed Harry the package.

Harry, thoroughly baffled, opened the package. It was, indeed, a broomstick, but one unlike Harry had ever seen before. The handle was crimson with swirls of gold around the shaft. The tail was _literally_ on fire.

"I didn't buy it," said Albus. "I _made _it. After all, I broke yours."

Harry was silent, admiring Albus's work in awe.

"It can do everything yours did, and I added a few things. That's Gubraithian fire on the tail, so it will never go out. I thought it looked a little too flashy, but the fire is necessary for some of the new additions. For instance, that broom can vanish and reappear with its rider. Nicolas and Rudolph helped me instill it with phoenix teleportation and speed. I thought it would be a nice consolation if it was impossible to become a phoenix animagus."

Harry still had no words.

"I suppose it's redundant now."

"Albus, this is amazing. It's beautiful—I…" he laughed, not really sure how to reassure Albus that he _loved _it. "You know, you could make a fortune on this."

"Ah, Harry. The world is not ready for the _Phoenix_ model broom. Besides, I have no interest in retail."

"I…wow."

"I must admit, though," said Albus. "It's not the only one of its kind."

"Oh?" asked Harry.

Albus snapped his fingers and another _Phoenix _broom zoomed up the stairs and into Albus's waiting hand.

"I decided that it wouldn't be any fun for you if you were the only person with a broom like that—a game of Quidditch is downright boring without competition. I thought I might provide some myself…"

Harry laughed. "Challenge accepted."

Then he remembered his own gift to Albus. There was no way it could possibly compare to the broomsticks. He felt a little sick and his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Er…This…er…is for you. Next year I'll…er…plan to not get kidnapped right before Christmas."

He quickly shoved the box over to Albus.

"Would you like me to open it?" asked Albus.

"I suppose," said Harry.

Albus lifted the lid and smiled serenely at what he saw. He lifted the quill and ink pot out of the box and examined them, smiling. "Thank you Harry," he said. "These are beautiful. The feather's one of yours, yes?"

Harry nodded. "And that ink pot…I didn't know what color ink you wanted, so I got you color change. I wanted the kind that keeps changing as you write, but this one just stays one color. I didn't know if you wanted black as usual or purple or something…" he trailed off.

Albus looked Harry right in the eye for a moment and hummed.

He absently snapped his fingers to conjure some parchment, dipped the quill in the ink pot and started drawing butterflies.

The ink was emerald green.

Harry stared.

So this was when Albus Dumbledore had decided to change from black ink to green ink, a habit that would last him until his death? Harry couldn't figure out why Albus liked that color in the first place. Green made Harry think of _Avada Kedavra_ and nauseating Floo travel and snakes and traffic lights and Slytherins and drowning in potion. He was about to ask Albus why he picked green, but Albus spoke first.

"Thank you, Harry," he said. "This is very thoughtful."

"You're welcome. Er…there's something else in there. It's stupid…"

Albus put down the quill immediately and opened the box again. He fished out the last item from the box: a small squashy wrapped package. Harry held his breath as Albus carefully picked the tape off with his long fingers. The wrapping finally fell away to reveal…

"Harry, you know, every other gift I received this Christmas was a book. People insist on giving me books, but all I ever really wanted was a pair of thick, woolen socks."

* * *

**A/N: This isn't the end! [But please review!]**


	60. Italian Restaurant

**A/N: See? Told you the fic wasn't over. Man, I've got like…100 thousand words left to write for this fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

The first few days of the New Year proved interesting and challenging for Harry. Soon after he and Fawkes were separated, he discovered that he still had all of the abilities of a phoenix, but very limited wizard magic. With or without a wand (which he had to borrow for experimentation because his was broken), he had trouble with the simplest charms and spells. His magic level was similar to that of a first year. He practiced a lot and it got easier; it was like his magic had reverted to an egg and he needed it to hatch and grow back to what it was.

Minerva was the first one to discover Harry's inabilities when she walked in on him practicing levitating charms (badly) in his classroom on Thursday, January 2nd of 1958.

"What are you doing, Crockett? Levitating?" Harry lost his concentration and the pen he was floating dropped to the ground. "Oh, this is good!" she said, her eyes flashing with glee.

"Minerva! Minerva, wait!" but she was already sprinting off down the corridor. Twenty minutes later she returned with Albus.

"Alright, Harry. You said you wanted a rematch with Albus, so here he is."

"What? I didn't say—"

"Of course you did—you said your duel was totally unfair and you weren't even conscious at the time because of Fawkes, so you wanted a rematch, so I brought Albus down."

Albus was smiling a little. "Why didn't you say so, Harry? I always enjoy our duels…"

Harry was about to rebut but Minerva sent a silencing charm at him and he couldn't throw it off. He glared at Minerva and followed her and Albus out of the classroom. The three of them made it out to the Quidditch pitch. Harry figured this wasn't going to last very long. He'd get creamed, but then he could explain it and Albus would understand. His humiliation would only be brief…

Before he knew it, he was standing twenty paces from Albus on the Quidditch pitch in a patch cleared of snow. Harry groaned. This was going to be the first duel they wouldn't tie—they'd even sort of tied the one in the interview.

And that in and of itself was strange, seeing as Albus had an unbeatable wand…

But he didn't have time to think about it because Minerva blew a whistle and Albus started firing spells at him. Harry dodged around—he was and always had been exceptionally fast, and he was faster still because of his phoenix powers, but when he tried to put up a shield it failed almost immediately.

Harry was wandless, so his spells either shot out of his fingers or manifested at their targets, but most of them didn't appear at all or were too weak to do anything.

Albus put up a shield and called "Harry, are you alright?"

Minerva's silencing charm had worn off, so Harry responded. "No! Minerva—agh. My magic's gone…just finish the damn duel."

Albus glanced over at Minerva who was grinning. "You'll have to finish! You're magically bound!" she called gleefully.

"I will have words for you, Minerva…" called Albus before turning his wand back on Harry. "_Petrificus Totalus!" _he called, and Harry finally failed to dodge. His arms snapped to his sides and his legs snapped together and he toppled over, but Albus was there to catch him and lower him slowly to the ground.

Suddenly Harry could move again.

"That wasn't thirty seconds," he said, looking up at Albus, kneeling above him.

"I didn't take the curse off," said Albus, frowning, but still, Harry could move.

"_Incarcerous!" _Albus muttered, pointing his wand down at Harry. Ropes sprung out of his wand and began wrapping themselves around Harry—and, to both of their surprise, they wrapped all the way around Albus too, binding them together tightly from shoulder to feet. Albus's wand had fallen out of reach.

"Albus," said Harry, slightly out of breath from the ropes and his proximity to Albus, "There was really no need to give up the win…"

"I…didn't," said Albus.

Both of them heard Minerva laughing and then she came into view above them.

"Nice job, Crockett," she said sarcastically.

"It was my spell, actually, Minerva," said Albus calmly. "And not an intentional one, in case you were going to ridicule me for engineering a tie."

The bell rang, signaling thirty seconds of incapacitation. Once again, Harry and Albus had tied a duel.

"Should I just…leave you two like this? I bet you're very comfortable…"

That's when it occurred to Harry that the Elder Wand must recognize _both _Harry and Albus as masters. They'd tied every single duel, and Harry had almost changed time with that wand…It must be true. He just hoped Albus wouldn't notice, or Albus might suspect Harry knew where the Resurrection Stone was too.

* * *

So Harry worked on his magic and got better. After a few days he was at least up to the level of a third year. He could do disarming spells with relative success and he could transfigure small inanimate objects. He was in his office practicing on Friday morning and a house elf in what looked like a _formal _tea cozy appeared with a rolled up piece of parchment.

"Professor Crockett, sir, this is being from Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"Oh…? Thanks," said Harry. He wondered why Albus didn't just come and deliver it himself or—or just tell him whatever it was.

He unrolled the parchment and immediately his eyes went huge and his face became very warm. Beautifully inked in emerald green pen was:

_Dearest Harry,_

_I wish to apologize for my forward behavior the other day, but I would like you to know of my strong affections for you. It is my intention to court you romantically and perhaps you would oblige me with a dinner next Saturday, the 11__th__ of January at 4:30, if that is enough notice. I look forward to your response._

_Yours truly,_

_Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore_

He read it again three times.

"Is you writing a responses, sir?" asked the house elf. Harry jumped; he'd forgotten the house elf was there.

"Er…" he cleared his throat. "Er…yeah," said Harry. "—No," his voice cracked. "No, actually, thanks. I'll go myself…"

With letter in hand, he marched up to Albus's office, knocked, and the door swung open.

His throat went dry all of a sudden.

"Er…hello, Albus. Got your message."

"Oh. Good," said Albus, a picture of ease and serenity behind his desk. Harry wondered how he could keep so clam in such a situation. What he didn't know was that Albus was just as nervous as he was and doing everything in his power to hide it.

"You know…you…er…don't have to put it in writing…or give me over a week's notice…We aren't that formal in my time—or…this time, I think, actually. You could just…ask me to go to dinner with you…"

"Goodness, that sounds confusing. How would you know I was courting you? How would you know it wasn't just a friendly dinner or something related to class? And imagine if I weren't courting you and you thought I was—imagine how you would have been led on, if I may be so presumptuous."

"Oh…I never thought about it that way," said Harry. As it was, he had no doubt that Albus wanted to take him out on a _date _that might lead to a _relationship_. He remembered back to how confusing everything was with Cho and Ginny and decided that Albus's way was much better.

"I would love to go to dinner with you," he said. "But could we compromise and make it this Saturday? I think waiting a week might drive me mad." he smiled sheepishly.

"I suppose," said Albus. "As long as you don't feel like I am rushing you."

Harry scoffed. "Neither of us is getting any younger."

Just as Harry was about to leave, Albus called to him. "Oh, and Harry? Wear muggle clothes, if you please."

So it was a date.

* * *

Meanwhile, Minerva would _not _shut _up _about some new boyfriend she'd met on her visit home.

"Elijah is taking me to dinner tonight," she told Harry and Albus at lunch on Friday.

"And does this Elijah have a last name?" asked Albus.

"Charade."

"What kind of a name is _Charade?_" asked Harry.

"_I _think it's mysterious," said Minerva. "He's from a very old wizarding family of Charades."

"I have never met one of the Charades," said Albus. "Nor heard of one, come to that…"

"They're Irish. None of them have ever attended Hogwarts."

"Ah, well, I would love to meet him."

"It's only our second date," she replied. "I don't want to scare him off yet."

"So, what does he do?" Harry asked.

"He's an antique dealer. He finds rare and old magical objects, values them, and sells them. I bet he'd love to see your vault, Harry."

Harry laughed. "Not going to happen, Minerva. And don't you dare breathe a word to him about it."

"I won't," she said, "but he told me about some interesting things…one of Hufflepuff's old cups or something," she rambled. "Her last known artifact, and he said he spent a lot of time looking for the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw—didn't find it of course. Something about one of Slytherin's old rings with a weird triangle on it…Said he would love to see the sword of Gryffindor. Now that I think about it, I wonder why he's so interested in the Hogwarts founders if he didn't go to school here. No matter—he found a good person to talk to about it!"

Harry and Albus quickly learned to tune Minerva's chatter about Elijah out. Whether she was trying to make Albus jealous or show him how happy she was without him, she had gotten rather annoying.

And before Harry knew it, it was Saturday evening: almost time for his date with Albus. Minerva, surprisingly, insisted on helping him dress for it, and Harry needed it. He didn't have any muggle clothes, but with some descriptions and photos from muggle magazines that Harry had to teleport out to get, Minerva could transfigure things for him.

He was ready by 4:25 and he and Minerva climbed down the stepladder (because Harry couldn't levitate himself down slowly enough not to break his legs yet—something he learned the hard way). Minerva wished Harry an enthusiastic good luck, and with a wink left Harry to meet Albus by himself.

And he reached the top of the grand staircase right as the clock started chiming four thirty, and he looked down and there was Albus. Involuntarily, his face split into a grin.

"Hello, Harry," Albus said softly as Harry approached.

"Hello."

Albus kissed him on the cheek. "You look…ah…devilishly handsome," he said. Harry felt himself turn a horrible color of red.

"Er…thanks. Minerva picked this out…" he said pulling at his tie and straightening his vest. "You too," he said, glancing Albus up and down. Albus was wearing his purple pinstripe suit. Maybe it was because Harry knew Albus better than the last time he'd seen that purple suit, but he no longer thought it looked too eccentric; instead, he noticed how it made Albus look even taller and how the purple made his blue eyes stand out.

"Are you ready to go?" Albus asked.

"Oh—I forgot my cloak. Do you mind if I—"

You won't need one where we're going," replied Albus.

"…Oh?"

Albus took Harry's arm and lead him outside onto the dark snowy grounds. It was cold out, but they were at the front gate to the school before it started to bother Harry.

"Do you mind side-along Apparating?"

"No," said Harry. He gripped Albus's arm tightly.

"On the count of three, then…one, two, three!"

They reappeared and were immediately struck by the light of the setting sun (which had long since set at Hogwarts). They stood on a winding, dusty country road. The road twisted between vineyards that stretched out over rolling hills that never seemed to end. The air was much warmer; Harry would have put it around 70 degrees. He and Albus both took their coats off and slung them over their shoulders.

"I hope you don't mind a short stroll," said Albus.

"Not at all. It's really nice out. Good idea…"

They began walking down the road. They walked down a slight hill towards the sunset and around a corner. A breeze swept by, moving the warm air, and Harry watched as Albus's hair rustled.

"We're almost there, I think," he said.

They stopped at the top of a hill and watched as the sun set completely. As they stood side by side, Harry's hand accidentally brushed Albus's, and Albus immediately took hold of it.

They continued walking.

Harry spotted what looked like a little house at the bottom of the hill. As they approached, Harry saw that there was a little garden in front with a low wooden fence around it. In the garden was a lawn, and an olive tree, and a little table. As they walked and watched, they were close enough to see a stout woman emerge from the house with an empty wine bottle and a candle. She put the candle in the wine bottle, put it on the table, and lit it. She straightened back up and turned to go back into the house, but she spotted Harry and Albus.

"Buonasera, hello!" she called in a thick Italian accent.

"Good evening," replied Albus with a wave.

"It is so good of you to come! We made sure you were our only customers tonight." she said with big gestures. "Come in, sit down," she gestured to the little table, "and everything will be ready for you!" And with that, she went back into the house, her enormous hips swaying under an apron.

"I hope you like Italian food," Albus said to Harry.

"I do—Albus, where are we?"

"Italy. Somewhere near Lucca. I was going to take you somewhere farther south, but they were having unseasonably warm weather here…This lovely woman hosts private dining. Her family are some of the best chefs in Italy."

"Oh my god…you took me to Italy on our first date…"

Albus smiled, and his eyes sparkled with the afterglow of the sunset.

So they sat down at the table, and soon the woman, whose name was Gabriella, returned with a loaf of bread and wine, and then bruschetta, some with tomato and basil, and some with prosciutto. Harry suspected that the tomatoes came from the tomato bush that stood by the house.

The afterglow of the sunset was fading, and two small children came out with more lit candles in wine bottles and distributed them all over the garden.

Soon after the bruschetta came new wine and a large dish of handmade cheese ravioli for Harry and Albus to share. Over the ravioli was a dark meat sauce that Gabriella referred to as "gravy." She told them was an old family recipe that takes over seven hours to make. When Albus asked for a copy of the recipe, she told him it had never been written down and had no measurements, but she'd be happy for him to come and watch her make it on Saturday mornings.

The main course was herb-roasted chicken with small potatoes and pearl onions. Harry and Albus each received a breast and a wing with sprigs of rosemary that had clearly been cut from the very garden they were sitting in. Accompanied by this course was, of course, another matching Italian red wine. Gabriella told them about each course and each wine. The wine for the main course was made by her uncle, who lived a few miles away and owned the vineyard around them.

By the time Gabriella brought out the desert (lady fingers and espresso), over two hours had passed. The only light came from the full moon and the candles, but the air was still quite warm.

When they finished the lady fingers, which they dipped in their espressos, Gabriella brought out a dessert wine.

"Thanks for taking me out," said Harry while he and Albus sipped their drinks.

"You're welcome. I hope you enjoyed dinner."

Harry laughed and nodded. "I did—I am."

"I am glad."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Harry, you once asked me a question, and I answered you quite facetiously and I think I owe you the truth."

"Er…ok."

"You asked me why I look so young—and thank you for saying so—but there is a reason for it."

Harry was suddenly very interested.

"Many years ago while I was still very young and a transfiguration teacher, was doing some research and experimentation on alchemy, and I attracted the attention of a noted scholar, Nicolas Flamel. Of course, I knew of Nicolas's accomplishments in alchemy with the Stone."

Harry had no idea where this story was going.

"Nicolas and I spent a lot of time together, and after a few years, one day, to my surprise, he offered me the elixir of life—the chance to stay young forever."

"Oh," said Harry surprised—and a little relieved. Harry'd been very uncomfortable when he thought that Nicolas had offered him the elixir and not Albus. "Why didn't you take it?"

"That's just it, Harry. I _did _take it. That's why I appear so young."

Harry was silent for a moment, processing.

"But…you can't…You're all old in my time…"

"I am led to believe that that will be a magical alteration to avoid confusion and media attention."

The gears in Harry's head were quickly grinding to a halt. This news went against everything he knew about Dumbledore. He didn't know what to think.

"I will understand if you think it selfish of me," said Albus, and Harry finally understood how nervous Albus was about telling Harry this—how much mustering it must have taken him to finally reveal this secret. "I think it selfish of myself."

Harry couldn't bear to see him so agitated. He suddenly knew it was not his business to judge Albus on this decision—it just wasn't any of his business.

He reached across the table and grabbed Albus's hands in both of his. "I honestly don't care," he said. "It makes me happy to see you this way."

They each finished their wine and then they left. When Gabriella came outside to say goodbye, she found them gone, but there was a pile of gold on the table large enough to feed her family for a year and expand her house into a proper restaurant.

Harry and Albus, meanwhile, appeared back in Harry's tower. Fawkes was back; he was standing on his gold perch with his head tucked under his wing.

"So…" said Harry, letting go of Albus, "We...went on a date."

"Yes we did," replied Albus.

"What…does that mean?"

"Probably that we should go on another one."

Harry's face split into a smile, but before he could respond, Albus was kissing him, pulling him close with his hand on the small of Harry's back. Harry was about to thread his hand through Albus's hair, but Albus broke away, wished Harry goodnight, and dropped nimbly out the open trap door.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please!**


	61. The Sky is Falling

**A/N: Yeaaah—two chapters in two days. That doesn't happen all that often…This is me trying really hard to get out of this weird transitional space and into my new plotlines. The rest of this story **_**will**_** have plot. It's not just going to be date after date because that would be **_**boring**_**. Thanks, yall who reviewed the last chapter! That's another reason I'm publishing so fast. Quick feedback means I can publish faster. Anyway…Chapter for you.**

* * *

The students arrived back to school on Sunday night, the 5th of January. The castle was louder and it felt like the temperature raised a few degrees. Classes started again on Monday the 6th, and Harry was back to teaching. Unfortunately, he had to work extra hard to fake his abilities. He was up to, maybe, a fourth or fifth year level. He could transfigure small animals and summon up a decent stunner—he could even conjure a Patronus if he thought about his kiss with Albus…

He managed to get through his morning alright. The first years didn't notice anything wrong. Harry was teaching them fully body binds that day—a spell he could both perform, counter-curse and block successfully. He'd spent some time over the weekend picking out a nice stick and magically boring a hole through the center so that he could shoot spells through it and make it look like was using a wand. The first years bought it, and Harry was feeling confident and even excited about the new semester.

Something very odd happened at lunch that day, however.

Harry strolled to lunch, chatting with his first years, and then took his seat next to Albus.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "How did your morning classes go?"

"Alright," said Harry. "The Prewett twins are learning astoundingly fast, as usual. Had half the class stiff as boards ten minutes in with body binding curses. Normally I would have noticed earlier, but…you know…Anyway, I had to give them something else to work on."

Albus chuckled. "That's good to hear." He pulled out a little bottle, uncorked it, and poured it in his goblet.

Harry looked at him curiously.

"…Elixir," he said. " Once a month."

"Oh…" said Harry.

"I have considered stopping. I'm not going to live forever, and I don't think I want to anyway, so this may be pointless."

Harry would have been happy to have a philosophical conversation about life and death at the lunch table with Albus, but just then, it got significantly darker in the great hall.

All of the students looked around confused—and ultimately, they looked up at the source of the problem.

The ceiling had…_died_, for lack of a better word. There above them were beautiful arches and finely crafted molding, but no sky—no weather to be seen. The Great Hall's famous ceiling had stopped working. What had formerly been the middle of a sunny day was now wood and stone.

Cries of confusion and alarm rung throughout the hall and Albus stood up.

"May I have your attention, please." The students were immediately silent, anxious for an answer to their confusion.

"As you may have noticed, the ceiling has just gone out," he smiled. Perhaps he was amused at the situation or the way he'd phrased the sentence or maybe he was just trying to make the students feel more calm about the situation. If the last was his goal, it worked.

"I will investigate this—in the mean time, please enjoy the rest of your lunch." He pulled the deluminator out of his pocket and clicked it. Balls of light zoomed out into the dimly-lit hall and hovered like little suns near the ceiling. Many of the students cried out in wonder and all returned to their lunches.

"Do you know what's wrong?" Harry asked Albus quietly.

"I suspect it may be one in a series of problems we've been witnessing throughout the castle: the staircase falling, the room of requirement empty, the kitchen not working, and while you were gone all of the photos and paintings around the castle stopped moving for the better part of an hour. It was eerie. If I didn't know better, I would say that the castle was, for lack of a better word, ill."

"Hmm," said Harry. "Actually, the castle has its own magical aura. I felt it when I first came in months ago. It's so big that it's sort of easy to tune out, so I forgot."

"Perhaps the castle has a consciousness, too, but I don't know how to make it better, or even how to access it," said Albus. "In the mean time, this is no small issue. One person has already gotten hurt, but imagine if the protections to the castle went down. We would be vulnerable to malicious entry," he said solemnly. "Not to mention parents."

Harry laughed. Even in a potentially problematic situation, Albus still managed to bring in some humor—but not too much. "I would help, but you know my magic's completely boggled right now. I doubt I'd be able to feel the difference between a wizard's magical aura and a hippogriff's"

Albus nodded.

Sunlight suddenly streamed through the ceiling, and there was an interested commotion from the students. The ceiling was working again.

"Well, that's that," said Albus. "Unfortunately, this means I won't be able to study it…"

Harry took a fortifying swig of his pumpkin juice and lowered his voice so that only Albus could hear him over the chattering students. "Albus…do you want to come with me to dinner at _Comede Noctem _this Saturday at around…eight? Minerva says they've got something special this weekend…"

Albus beamed at Harry, caught off guard. "Of course."

* * *

The rest of Monday was more challenging for Harry. He had double 6th and 7th years. He normally showed off a bit for his NEWT students, but obviously couldn't that day. When Longbottom asked him if something was wrong, he just said he'd had a long, tiring morning. He could have sworn he heard Moody cough "_bullshit_" under his breath.

Next he had tea with Minerva. He told her that Albus had agreed to a date that Saturday at _Comede Noctem_.

"You did _what?_" she asked.

"You told me there was something good at _Comede Noctem _this weekend, so I asked…Albus…to go with me…?" He trailed off as Minerva's expression changed to supreme irritation.

"Crockett, that's where _I'm _going on a date with _Eli_ this weekend."

"Oh, we can compare notes after?"

"At the same time, Crockett!"

"Well, that's alright. We sort of want to meet him."

"It is not alright—I don't want him to know that I have friends like _you_," she said. Harry wasn't sure how sarcastic she was being. "And it's _we_ now? You and Albus are a _we_?" she asked incredulously.

"Ouch. We aren't that bad—and maybe we are a _we._ Is there something wrong with that?" It was a loaded question and a little cruel, but Minerva had _no _chance with Albus and the sooner she realized that the better, as far as Harry could tell.

Minerva backpedaled. "I guess not. It's good to see you happy," she forced out. "Plus, I'm happy too."

"With _Eli_," said Harry.

"With Eli," confirmed Minerva.

"I'm glad you found someone," he said.

"Me too," said Minerva.

"Yep," said Harry.

They both drank the rest of their tea in silence.

* * *

By Thursday, magic was coming much more easily to Harry. He was improving at a much faster rate and was almost up to the level where he was when he started his Auror training. He taught his sixth and seventh years again on Thursday afternoon, and managed to use magic in front of them without embarrassing himself.

It was during that class that Moody, who was still shadowing the NEWT class despite being a fifth year, reminded Harry of his promise.

"Professor Crockett, will you start teaching me wandless magic?" he growled straightforwardly at the end of class.

"Oh!" Harry had, naturally, forgotten. "Yeah," he said, but then he hesitated. "Don't you have some OWL to be studying for?"

"No," he said simply.

"Alright, well, how about after class on Thursdays? I have a free block."

"Thank you, sir. When can we start?"

"How about next week?"

Moody nodded.

Harry supposed they could have started that very day, but there was something else that Harry wanted to do. He had hardly seen Albus in days, and he was starting to worry. It was possible that he was just working on the castle problem or having a particularly busy week, but Harry wanted to make sure.

So when class was over and he was done talking to Moody, he dismissed his students and started walking up to Albus's office. He supposed that, given his budding relationship with Albus, he didn't need an excuse to go visit him, but he came up with one anyway. He decided he'd ask Albus to help test his magical ability, see if Albus had any useful comments.

He reached the top of the escalator-staircase outside Albus's office and had raised his hand to knock, but overheard an animated argument from within.

He let his hand fall back down and started to leave, but then he recognized who the two voices belonged to: Minerva and Albus. Too curious, he stayed and listened.

"Minerva, I can't tell you why, but you should stop seeing this _Elijah_. I believe he's dangerous."

"He's a farm boy from Ireland, Albus! Besides, it's not your duty to protect me from men!"

"That is not what I am talking—"

"Is it _so_ hard for you to see me happy, Albus?" she asked shrilly. Harry heard Minerva blow her nose. "Finally I'm happy—after years of pining over you, as you well knew, and suddenly you take an interest in my romantic life—Well it's too late!"

"Minerva, you know perfectly well why that is an invalid accusation."

"_Right_, because now you have _Crockett_. And you didn't even tell me, Albus! I had to walk in on you—in a public space, no less!" she sobbed and then blew her nose again.

"I'm sure you saw this coming long before I did," he replied.

"I did! Do you think that made it better? It made it worse!"

"I am sorry, Minerva," he said sincerely. "I had no idea how these actions would affect you. I now wish I had conducted myself differently. Though, I did think you may have had it in you to be happy for me."

"Yes, well, you were very insensitive," Minerva said, calming down.

"None of this, however, changes the fact that Elijah is dangerous and that you should cut your ties with him immediately."

"Can't you just _LEAVE US ALONE?_" she bellowed.

"Minerva, I happen to have information—"

"You've been _spying_ on him?"

"Minerva—"

"I can't believe this. You have _no _consideration for my privacy, nor have you ever cared for my happiness or wellbeing. All you care about is _YOURSELF_. I hope you and _Crockett_ are very happy together."

Harry heard Minerva stomping across the office floor and realized she was going for the door just in time to teleport back to his office to get out of her way. When he got there, he found himself out of breath. He had no idea that he and Albus had hurt Minerva so much. He didn't understand why she was spending so much time with Harry gossiping about Albus and helping him get ready for their date and everything. Couldn't she just be happy for them?

Little did he know, Minerva hated herself every moment for thinking she'd helped them get together, but at the same time wanted nothing more to be happy for them. Out of some masochistic need to live vicariously through Harry, she kept him close, but she hated herself and him every minute of it, and she hated that she couldn't just feel happy for them like a friend should.

Harry did think it was a bit insensitive of Albus to be telling Minerva to break it off with her boyfriend, though. Maybe he had a good reason. He wanted to ask Albus what it was, but that would reveal that he had eavesdropped on their conversation.

Harry didn't see Albus at all on Friday, nor did he see Minerva. He had a really nice lunch with Filius Flitwick, who turned out to be a fantastic conversationalist. Flitwick, who actually seemed to be taller at forty than his older self would be, was impressed with the way that Harry dueled. He said he'd never been particularly interested in dueling before, but had joined a dueling club over the winter break. From this Harry gathered that he had not yet won his dueling championship.

After his classes on Friday afternoon, Harry sat in his tower and listened to whatever music his record player put on (which, to his annoyance, narrowed eventually to the Rolling Stones' _Satisfaction_ and Beyonce's _Single Ladies _alternating on repeat). He finally turned it off when it started playing the 12 Days of Christmas and got stuck on _FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! FIVE GOLDEN RINGS!_

He was in a poor mood, but at least he had his date to look forward to on Saturday night.

Saturday went by very slowly, though. By lunch he reckoned something must be wrong with his record player. It was now just playing Beyonce's _Single Ladies_—and just the one part of a line _"put a ring on it! Put a ring on it! Put a ring on it! Put a ring on it!" _in a never ending loop of skipping. Harry was busy lying in bed and staring at the canopy of his bed, so he didn't notice what the player was doing for a few minutes, but when he did, he sent a curse at it from the palm of his hand. It stopped playing.

Neither Albus nor Minerva were at lunch, again. He hadn't seen or heard from either of them since he listened outside Albus's door. He thought that maybe Minerva was getting ready for her date with Elijah. Albus might have been busy or something, but Harry didn't mind too much because he knew he'd see him at dinner that night.

It was almost eight. Harry didn't have to get dressed specially, because _Comede Noctem'_s magicwould do that for him. A few minutes before eight, he went down to the entryway and stood by the stairs. Albus wasn't there yet, so he waited.

_Fashionably late? _Harry wondered. Usually Albus was prompt, but maybe this was some sort of seduction tactic. He hoped it was, anyway.

At quarter past eight, Harry's mind stared to wander to possible places Albus could be. Was he with the Flamels and he'd lost track of time? Maybe he realized that he wasn't gay and was off somewhere doing unspeakable things with Minerva.

-_No_, he thought, first imagining Albus's pajama wardrobe and then the way he'd kissed him. Albus was definitely gay.

Maybe he…Harry smacked himself on the forehead. He'd probably thought Harry meant they would meet _at Comede Noctem_. He teleported out immediately and reappeared in the alleyway outside of the restaurant. The last time he'd been there was in the fall. It was now winter, and the theme of the restaurant had changed completely. Instead of live fairies making up the lighted letters of the sign on the archway, glowing ice formed the script instead. Harry felt himself enchanted already by the spell.

He walked under the arch, and immediately he felt his clothing transform in a brisk winter wind. He stepped into the beautiful winter wonderland courtyard outside the main restaurant. Witches and wizards lined up outside the door like he remembered, each wearing a beautiful fur or sleeved evening gown…but Albus was nowhere to be seen. Despite the enchantments and the beautiful surroundings, Harry felt something drop into the pit of his stomach.

He teleported straight into Albus's office, and called out, hoping to hear Albus's voice. Maybe he'd… gotten his hair caught in a curler?

But he knew that wasn't what happened.

He knew deep down that something was very wrong.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	62. Put a Ring On It

**A/N: Hey there. Sorry about the cliff. This should fix it. Here's some story for you.**

* * *

Armed with his certainty that Albus was in trouble, Harry teleported back to his room to gather his thoughts. Immediately, his record player switched on…

"_If you like it then you should have put a ring on it, if you like it then you should have put a ring on it."_

Harry sent a curse at it, but all that happened was the song changed. "_Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive, ah ah ah, staying alive!"_

It changed again. "_FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! Four calling birds, three French hens—"_

It changed again. "_I-I-I-I-I'm not your stepping stone."_

And again. "_I used to be a rolling stone, you know, when the cause was right—"_

"_You'll be wrapped around my finger—"_

"_If you like it then you should have put a ring on it, whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, if you like it then you should have put a ring on it."_

Harry yelled in frustration. "Shut _up_ and let me THINK!"

The music went quiet. He turned to Fawkes, who was standing on his perch.

"Now," said Harry aloud, "where is Albus?"

He quickly teleported outside Minerva's chambers and knocked, but nobody was there. She was out on her date.

_If you like it then you should have put a ring on it…_ He had it stuck in his head.

What could Albus being doing that would be more important than their date? What would he miss it for?

Well, he could have been kidnapped—but he was Albus Dumbledore. Nobody could kidnap him except maybe Harry at the top of his game.

What were Albus's weaknesses? What would he do that could get him in trouble that he wouldn't tell Harry about?

_If you like it then you should have put a ring on it…_

"Oh,_ FUCK_."

And in Harry's mind's eye he saw Albus outside of Gaunt's old shack with the snake on the door, pushing the door open and spotting the ring, the Resurrection Stone, _Voldemort's cursed horcrux_. And if Albus had been distracted enough in his old age and wisdom to pick up the ring, he would most certainly, in his less learned youth, put it on. Harry would find him looking like a piece of Albus-shaped charcoal.

The problem was, Harry didn't actually know where Gaunt's house was. He knew it was near the grave yard where he'd been taken in his fourth year, but knew nothing beyond that.

He teleported back to his room.

"Fawkes, Albus is in trouble. Will you help me find him?"

Fawkes whistled.

"I can get us near…" Fawkes took off and landed on Harry's shoulder, and Harry teleported out immediately.

They appeared in the graveyard; it was covered in snow—it was going to be more difficult to identify Gaunt's hut in such different conditions from when he'd seen it in the memory, but Fawkes took off immediately and started flying rapidly to the south. Harry changed into his phoenix form and followed.

From the air, he could see much more of the landscape. There, on a hill, was the Riddle House. The Gaunt shack must be nearby. Harry kept following Fawkes, getting faster by the second.

And there—finally, beneath a matt of overgrown brambles and ugly trees was the eyesore of a shack, the House of Gaunt. Harry vanished out of the air as soon as he saw it and reappeared in the shack, human again.

And there was Albus, unconscious, on the floor on his side. Harry could tell how he fell as there was swept path in the inch of dust. Harry quickly knelt down beside Albus and turned him so that he was on his back. He was still warm.

Fawkes appeared in a flash of fire and landed on the ground next to Albus, sweeping a space in the dust with his tail.

And Harry saw it; the heavy stone ring that Albus had put onto his right ring finger. Harry quickly summoned all the magical sense he could find in his recuperating magic aura and reached out with it to Albus and the ring.

He recoiled immediately. Clearly there was a curse…or maybe that was just the horcrux…He didn't know.

"Fawkes, will you go get Nicolas Flamel and bring him back to my tower?" Fawkes vanished immediately. Harry was careful not to touch Albus's skin or the ring in case the curse could travel. He got a good hold on Albus's arm and teleported them out.

They appeared on Harry's big purple bed. A moment later there was a flash of light and Fawkes and Nicolas appeared.

"What's happened, Harry?"

"He put on the ring. The Resurrection Stone—only it's a horcrux and it's cursed. I can't tell what…"

"Harry—slow down. What ring? What stone? The Hallow? A _horcrux?_" asked Nicolas, horrified.

Nicolas rushed to the bedside, bent down towards Albus and closed his eyes. Harry could tell he was feeling out the curse, as Harry had tried and failed to do. Nicolas flinched a few times and then opened his eyes again.

"The ring will be stuck on his finger," said Nicolas. "You can touch him and the ring without falling under the effects of the curse. He is merely asleep, in a coma. I do not envy the dreams he's likely having, but he is just asleep for now. Who's horcrux is this?"

"Voldemort's. Tom Riddle. One of seven."

"_Seven?" _

"Well, six right now. He'll get the seventh in a few years, by mistake. How can we cure Albus?"

"As far as I can tell, this curse was intended to keep the finder of the horcrux preserved until—Voldemort, did you call him?—could find and deal with him or her. Or possibly it was intended to let him or her starve to death. It may do something more sinister; I do not know."

"So, how can we help him?"

"First, do you know how long he was cursed before you found him?"

Harry thought about it and his panic started to rise; he hadn't seen Albus in _days_. He could have been lying on the floor in the Gaunt house that whole time.

"Harry! How long?"

"Oh…um…I don't know. I haven't seen him since Thursday afternoon."

"Good, then he isn't quite near death by dehydration. You need to convince Voldemort to lift the curse or destroy the horcrux."

"He would never do that…getting Albus out of the way would be a cause of celebration for him and, besides, he can't know we know about his horcruxes."

"Then, you will need to destroy the horcrux. I admit, I have no experience with this and do not know how to destroy a horcrux."

Harry actually laughed in relief. "That is one thing that I do know how to do. _Accio Sorting Hat!"_

The sorting hat came zooming across the office and Harry caught it. He slammed it down over his ears and began to think.

_I need help. I need to save Albus. Please, I need to save Albus. I need the sword. _

And just like when he was in his second year, something heavy dropped onto his head, almost knocking him out. He stumbled and reached up to find that the sword of Gryffindor had, indeed, appeared in the Sorting Hat.

"All I have to do is break it with this," Harry said to Nicolas. "But we can't take the ring off—what if I miss and hit Albus's hand?"An image of Albus's hand, severed at the wrist and bleeding, popped into his mind.

Nicolas turned his attention and wand to Albus's hand with the ring on it. He tapped Albus's hand once, and from the tip of his wand spread steel, casting all of Albus's hand and lower arm except for right where the ring was. This would protect him.

"Nice job," said Harry. He swung the sword up into the air, aimed carefully, and brought it down hard.

His aim was true, but the sword not only bounced off, but flew out of Harry's grip across the room.

"What's wrong?" asked Nicolas.

"Oh…shit, the basilisk venom." He'd forgotten that the sword needed to be impregnated with basilisk venom for it to destroy the horcrux.

"I'm sorry?"

"This sword…I need to…will you watch him for a few minutes?"

Harry didn't wait for a response. He teleported out immediately, and a split second later he was in the Chamber of Secrets. It was, of course, exactly like he remembered it. It was untouched, as no one had visited since Riddle's sixth year.

Harry turned to the great statue of Salazar Slytherin and spoke to it. He might have been a little sheepish about the words coming out of his mouth, but he didn't have time.

"Oh mighty Slytherin, open up and let—_fuck!_"

He knew immediately it wasn't working. He wasn't speaking in Parseltongue. He hadn't practiced it since he lost his magic, so he couldn't do it without talking to a snake—he didn't even know if he could do it with a snake.

He took a deep breath and snapped his fingers. A tiny brown gopher snake appeared in his hand. At least he could do as much as an animal conjuring, he thought.

He looked at the snake.

"_Hello," _he said. It was Parseltongue. The snake nodded at him in response. "_You can understand me?_" The snake nodded again. "_Good." _He turned back to the statue and, in the same state of mind, began speaking to the statue.

"_Oh mighty Slytherin, open up and let the monster out. I command you, open and let out the king of serpents!"_

He waited for a moment, but nothing happened. He'd spoken the language correctly, but that wasn't the problem.

"Great," muttered Harry. "Where the hell am I supposed to find the heir of Slytherin at this time of night on a Saturday?"

He teleported back to his chambers.

"Did you get what you needed?" Nicolas asked immediately.

"No," said Harry. "As it turns out, the only person who can help me safely destroy this horcrux is the very man who created it. We could conjure Fiendfyre, but it might kill Albus. We need Tom Riddle. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need Lord Voldemort's help. Shit. Fawkes? Can you help me find him?"

Fawkes disappeared in a burst of flame, only to reappear a split second later, to Harry's surprise, with _Minerva _and a rather good looking man, both mostly naked and tangled in a blanket_._

"No, Fawkes, that's—" Harry froze in horror. "Oh my god…that's Tom Riddle." The disguise was good; Voldemort's hair was longer and blond, his snake nose was gone, and he had freckles all over his body, but somehow Harry knew. Maybe it was from seventeen years of carrying part of that man's wasted soul, but Harry knew he would always be able to identify Lord Voldemort, and _that_ was Lord Voldemort.

"_Expelliarmus! Stupify!" _he shouted immediately.

Riddle was so surprised that he fell immediately, dragging the blanket and Minerva with him. He didn't have his wand, so there was nothing to disarm him of.

"CROCKETT, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" shrieked Minerva, trying to cover herself with the blanket. "This is ELIJAH! How _dare_ you attack him? How DARE YOU—"

"Minerva, that's Tom Riddle. That's _Voldemort!"_

"_Finite Incantatem!" _incanted Nicolas, pointing his wand at Voldemort. The disguise fell away and Minerva _screamed _and quickly scrabbled backward, bringing the blanket with her.

Tom Riddle was left in the middle of Harry's floor, unconscious and in nothing but his briefs (not that Harry had _ever _wanted to know what type of underwear Voldemort wore).

Minerva spotted Albus on the bed.

"Albus? Albus! What's happened to Albus?"

"He's been cursed," said Nicolas.

"Sort of his fault," Harry pointed to Riddle.

Minerva burst into tears. "I can't believe I was about to…oh Merlin—_Tom Riddle! _This must have been what Albus was trying to warn me about—oh I _am sorry_, Albus! I should have listened! But how could he have known? And why didn't Albus just tell me outright?"

"Would you have believed him if he had told you that you were seeing Tom Riddle?" asked Nicolas, kindly.

Minerva sniffed. "No." Her face hardened and she ran at Tom Riddle. Nobody really stopped her. She kicked him in the gut. He was unconscious and didn't move. After a few good kicks (and one satisfying crunch that meant she'd probably broken a rib), Harry stopped her.

"I'd let you keep going, but we…er…sort of need him for something."

She looked at him questioningly.

"He's the only one who can save Albus."

"What is it, exactly, that you need, Harry?" asked Nicolas.

"Basilisk venom," Harry replied.

Nicolas's face fell. "I have a fair few black market contacts, but there hasn't been word of a basilisk for two centuries."

"Well, I know where one is. I just can't get to it without Riddle. Maybe if I was…back to normal I could," Harry said referring to his power, "but not right now."

"Well, then, we'll have to wake him up," said Nicolas.

"Only, he can't see Albus. He can't know what did this to Albus or he'll never get us what we need. As far as he knows, that ring is still where he left it. He'd never help us break it."

"Perhaps you can take him directly to…wherever this basilisk of yours is," suggested Nicolas.

Harry nodded. He grabbed the sword of Gryffindor turned to Riddle and—

"Oh, for heaven's sake, will somebody _please_ conjure him some clothes?"

* * *

**A/N: Yay. Chapter. Um, see y'all in a couple of days. Please review [did this make sense? Was it what you want to read? Thanks].**


	63. Venom

**A/N: Hello. This has not been beta'd because my beta is on a scuba mission in Tennessee. This chapter is dedicated to Arithmancy Master, who has written me 42 thoughtful reviews and counting in the last three days. If you're reading this, Arithmancy Master, go check your inbox. **

**On another note, I've gotten a few reviews commenting on how this is an AU fic. It is NOT an AU fic. All of the things that Harry does in the 1950's are compatible with and/or **_**cause**_** the things that happen in the timeline in the books. If things don't seem to be lining up, they will be explained, I promise. Assume that nothing Harry does changes the future. This story is intended to be entirely compatible with cannon. **

**Anyway, read, enjoy, review!**

* * *

Harry and Tom Riddle appeared in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry was tense and thinking quickly, looking from the sword to Riddle and back. Tom Riddle was still unconscious, and, thankfully, clothed. Harry needed to get Tom Riddle to open up the statue of Slytherin, get the basilisk out, and convince it to give up some venom. The tricky part would be convincing Riddle to do the task without telling him why it needed to be done. If he thought it was to save Albus, he wouldn't do it. If he thought it was to destroy his own horcrux, he wouldn't do it _and _he'd probably kill them all. So Harry needed to keep the true purposes _out_ of the picture.

He pointed to Riddle and incanted "_Ennervate!"_ At the height of Harry's power, he would be able to just…think the spell and it would happen with no beam of light or anything, but he was not at the height of his power.

So a beam of light shot from Harry's index finger and hit Riddle in the chest. Riddle began to stir, and then groan and clutch his stomach where Minerva had kicked him.

"Voldemort, can you hear me?"

It was _weird _holding the Dark Lord captive. It was even weirder needing something from him.

Riddle looked up at Harry and glared. "Yes." He looked around himself and his eyes widened in surprise. "Where are we?"

"You know perfectly well where we are," Harry laughed. "Why don't you just assume I know _everything _about you. It's going to save us a lot of time and questions. What you should be asking is, 'What are we doing here, Harry? What can I do for you so that I get out of here alive?'"

Tom sneered. "Fine, then. What are we doing here, Harry," he asked mockingly. "And what can I do for you so that I can get out of here alive? You know what I'd _like _to do for you…" He coughed and spluttered, his rib clearly causing him some amount of pain.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Right, well, I need basilisk venom."

"Why?" asked Riddle.

"For a…for…That's none of your business." He couldn't come up with anything fast enough.

"So Harry Potter's in to dark magic? Does the White Hat know?"

Harry assumed he meant Albus by "White Hat."

"No," said Harry, resigned. He thought he might gain sympathy from Voldemort if he thought Harry was hiding something from Albus. "He doesn't. And you can't tell him. Please."

"Right, so, I don't know where any basilisks are, unfortunately," said Riddle.

"Cut the crap. I know everything about you, remember? Heir of Slytherin, _Parseltongue_, and all. And I'm not going to tell Albus about the Chamber of Secrets or the basilisk or anything."

"Why wouldn't you tell him?" asked Riddle suspiciously.

"It's not time for him to know," said Harry.

"What do I get out of this?"

"Um, I let you out alive? You're wandless."

"So are you."

Harry smiled. "Yeah…doesn't really matter." He snapped his fingers and dramatic fire roared up all around him. Harry slowly let the flames recede, never getting burned, of course.

"Nice trick," said Voldemort. "But I have a basilisk. I could make it kill you."

"And I could kill it with my sword."

Riddle scoffed.

"Or I could conjure a rooster to crow or something, but I don't really want to do that. I just want the venom." He was bluffing, of course. He couldn't kill the basilisk because it had to be there for his second year, and he didn't fancy hatching a new one to put in the old one's place. He also couldn't kill Voldemort for the same reason, but Voldemort didn't know that, of course.

"This is a lot of trouble to go to for basilisk venom," said Voldemort. "I can't help but think there is something you aren't telling me."

"There are a great deal of things I am not telling you, Riddle. If I go into a wand store, I don't have to tell the seller every spell I'm ever going to cast with it."

"You imply I have a choice in this…you are not giving me a choice."

"You don't deserve one," spat Harry.

"Why not?"

"Um, you've tried to use the _Cruciatus _curse on me, you kidnapped me, dosed me with an illegal potion, put me under the _Imperius_ curse, and sexually assaulted me, and then betrayed a friend of mine in the worst way possible," recounted Harry, incredulously.

"Need I remind you, you started all this by harassing me at my place of work the first time I ever met you, you sabotaged my job interview at Hogwarts and stole my job, physically maimed me, you've threatened me, killed my friend, attacked me in the place of my residence and tried to kill me, scorned my advances with undue rudeness, and now kidnapped me and beaten me. I owe you nothing. You may have the power in this situation, but do not delude yourself that you are the better man."

Harry was silent. Harry noted with interest that Voldemort had matured a lot since their last visit. He was thinking more, he wasn't being so much of a brat, and he hadn't even hit on Harry yet. Voldemort spoke the truth; he may have been an unspeakably worse person overall, but Harry had certainly been as horrible to Voldemort as Voldemort had been to Harry since they had met in this time. Harry had excused his own behavior as payback for Voldemort's future crimes, but as far as Voldemort was concerned, the punishment was entirely undue.

Harry rolled his eyes and waved his hand at Voldemort. Voldemort sighed in relief as his cracked rib healed.

"Is there something you want?" Harry asked reluctantly.

"Your servitude."

"I think I might be too busy for that. Also, _no._ Anything else?"

"The elixir of life."

"Not mine to give," said Harry.

"I will do it if you go to dinner with me."

"What?"

"Or drinks some time."

"_What?_"

"Just give me a chance, Harry."

"Tom, I…"

"Minerva told me Dumbledore's been courting you, but I thought maybe if it wasn't serious yet…"

"Tom, you tried to _kill_ me. You're a murderer."

"So are you, and you tried to kill me too, but that doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how I feel."

"I…_what?_"

"In truth, I was only seeing Minerva in the hopes of getting closer to you."

"You tricked my best friend into dating you so that you could see _me?_ Not your most endearing move, Tom."

"I've done wrong, Harry, but I could change for you."

Harry's brain was EXPLODING.

Lord Voldemort was going to renounce his evil ways for _Harry_? But that's not how it ended! It ended with Lord Voldemort as an evil wizard with horcruxes being killed by Harry in a big battle for Hogwarts and freedom! Was it a trick, or was it true?

"I'll buy."

"What?" asked Harry, snapping out of his stupor.

"Dinner. I'll buy," said Voldemort.

Harry shook himself. _Focus._ If this is what it took to save Albus…a night with the Dark Lord…he would do it.

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes. One dinner."

"And you can't have me arrested."

"Fine."

"Fine." Tom Riddle grinned. Harry glared.

"Oh, fix your goddamn nose," said Harry. He waved his hand at Voldemort and Voldemort's nose was restored. "Why did you keep it like that, anyway?"

"Because you gave it to me."

Harry rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Alright, will you please get the venom now?"

Voldemort nodded. He scrambled to his feet and turned to the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin. "_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."_

There was a great grinding noise as the giant maw of Salazar Slytherin began to open, and Harry thought he could see a stirring from within.

"_Shut your eyes. Do not kill," _Voldemort instructed in Parseltongue.

And before Harry's eyes, the huge basilisk began to emerge from the statue of Slytherin and lower itself to the ground.

"You'll need something to hold the venom in," said Riddle, businesslike. "I would recommend something made of snakeskin. The venom would eat through anything else too quickly."

The snake was almost entirely on the ground. Harry, meanwhile, picked up a fallen stalactite and transfigured it into a medium sized snake. He used magic to cut off the head of the snake and gut it so that only the thick skin was left. Harry put an impermeable charm and an unbreakable charm on the skin. The skin would now hold a significant amount of venom, and hopefully wouldn't break.

"Give that to me," said Riddle. Harry handed it to him.

"_Come to me," _said Riddle, and the giant snake obeyed, keeping its deadly yellow eyes shut all the while. "_Open your mouth and do not bite."_

The basilisk reared its head and, to Harry's continued surprise, did exactly as Riddle said. The basilisk opened its mouth and Riddle slipped the new snakeskin bag over one of the basilisk's foot-long fangs.

"_Now, bite down._"

Harry had an absurd image of a basilisk in a dentist's chair getting its teeth cleaned by Hermione's parents. _Open wide…now turn your head to the left and bite down_. He almost laughed.

The basilisk, again, did what Riddle wanted and bit down. Its fang caught the snakeskin bag and the basilisk sort of chewed it. Harry hoped the bag would stay intact. After a moment of watching the basilisk bite and chew, Riddle ordered it to open its mouth again. He reached into the basilisk's mouth and pulled the bag off, careful not to touch anything but the outside of the snakeskin bag.

"Your venom," he said, and handed the container to Harry, who took it carefully.

"Thank you," said Harry, surprising himself.

"_Go back and rest," _said Voldemort. The giant snake thundered off and began climbing to its home. "You're welcome. When will I see you?"

"Ah…er…" he looked inside the snake-bag to stall, except the fumes from the venom made his eyes sting.

"How about Friday night? At the Cheshire Cat in Hogsmeade?" asked Voldemort.

Harry rubbed under his glasses with his free hand.

"Yeah, fine, alright. I'm going to take you out of the castle, now."

Before Voldemort could respond, Harry had grabbed him by the back of his collar, and they teleported out. Harry left him in an unoccupied room of the Leaky Cauldron and teleported back to his tower and Albus's side.

"That was fast," said Minerva. "Did you kill him?"

"What? No, I didn't _kill _him, Minerva."

"Did you get the venom?" asked Nicolas.

Harry held out the bag. "Would you hold this for two secs?"

Nicolas took the bag and Harry carefully dipped the Sword of Gryffindor into it. When he withdrew the sword, it was shiny and dry as if it had never been dipped.

Harry turned to Albus with the sword. Albus's arm was still cased in steel, except for the ring. Harry raised the sword above his head. The sword was half way down to the stone when Albus's eyes flew open, and they weren't shiny and blue, but blood red.

"_Murderer,_" he said in a terrible whisper that only Harry could hear—and then the sword fell onto the ring, and with a crack like thunder, the stone split down the center. Albus's eyes were closed once more, and Harry wondered if Albus had opened his eyes and spoken at all.

The sword fell from Harry's hand with a clang as it hit the floor. He vanished the steel casing on Albus's arm and slid the ring off his finger. That's when he noticed Albus's eyes start to flutter.

"Albus! Albus, can you hear me?"

Albus groaned and shifted a little, struggling to wake up.

"Harry, this is about to start leaking," said Nicolas.

"What? Oh. The venom?" His focus was still on Albus.

"I could transfer it to rooster skin, for one, but that would render it useless. The only thing I can think of is more goblin made steel. I have a box at home, if you would like to borrow it."

"Oh, er, thanks," said Harry, much more concerned with Albus, who was stirring more and more by the moment.

"Minerva, will you help me with this? I'm afraid I can't manage it on my own."

"I want to see if Albus is—"

"Minerva, I fear it will burn a whole in anything it touches if we don't transfer it immediately."

Minerva sighed and nodded. Nicolas grabbed her arm. "Fawkes, will you take us to my home, please?"

Fawkes took off and landed on Nicolas's shoulder and the three of them vanished in a whirl of flame. Harry was alone with Albus, and it was only much later that he realized that Nicolas had left them alone on purpose, at which time he made sure to send anonymous flowers.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Albus? Are you feeling ok?"

Albus frowned. "I'm afraid I've done something very foolish, Harry."

"It's alright, now, Albus. You're safe."

"How…did I get here?"

"I found you in Gaunt's house and brought you here."

Albus exhaled and closed his eyes. He muttered something Harry couldn't hear.

"Sorry?"

"I said, then it was real, and I did…" he trailed off, his voice lost. "Where's the stone, Harry?"

"Here," Harry pointed to his bedside table. "How did you find it?" he asked, for the first time frowning.

"Voldemort," Albus rasped out. "He's Elijah—we must warn Minerva."

"She's safe," said Harry. "She knows."

"Oh, she must be heartbroken…Minerva mentioned that he told her about a ring of Slytherin's with a triangle on it. I thought I'd pay Elijah Charade a visit, only to discover that there was no Elijah Charade. I admit, I followed Minerva on one of her dates, and knew the man she was with to be Tom Riddle. After this revelation I tried to warn Minerva, and then I set off searching for the ring. It was not hard to find; I thought he would have hidden it somewhere and I began searching at the House of Gaunt, but there it was on the table. I put it on."

"It was a horcrux, Albus, and cursed."

"A—a horcrux?" Albus leaned forward in surprise. "Whose? Tom's?"

Harry nodded. Albus flopped back down against the bed.

They were silent for a moment.

"You must be so disappointed in me, Harry."

"I'm just glad you're alright," said Harry. "I'm a little confused. I thought…well…"

"You thought I'd moved past all of this? I thought I had too."

They were quiet again.

"Is there anything you—anything we can do about it?" asked Harry. When Albus didn't say anything, Harry continued carefully. "I mean…I know how much this means to you. I wish there were some way of…giving you closure. Maybe…maybe we could revisit—"

"No, Harry."

"I think it might help if—"

"No."

"Really, I—"

"Harry, please stop."

"But I know it wasn't your curse that killed Ariana!"

Albus was struck into silence. He got out of Harry's bed, stood up, and walked to the window.

"How…how could you possibly know that?" he asked, dangerously quiet.

"Your soul is intact," said Harry carefully. "Not only that, but it's spotless. I've felt it. It's never been torn and pieced together; there's no scar. It wasn't your fault, Albus. You didn't kill Ariana."

"I as good as killed her, Harry! I—I let that monster into my house, Gellert. I was in that fight; I provoked the spell that killed her! But Gellert… I was too much of a coward to face him. That's…that's the worst part."

"You could still see him," said Harry crossing the room to stand behind him at the window. "He's locked away. It would be on your terms. This might be the closure you need."

Albus thought for a moment.

"I couldn't—I couldn't look him in the face." He studied the floor.

"Albus, this is going to haunt you until the day you die. It's just venom poisoning you! Gellert Grindelwald isn't worth that. You're the Gryffindor here."

Albus turned, caught Harry's eye and smiled sadly.

"Do it for me?" Harry asked weakly. In truth, in addition to his concern for Albus's lasting baggage, he was intimidated by Albus's history with Grindelwald. He didn't like that somebody else still had so much emotional sway over Albus—especially negative emotional sway.

Maybe Albus understood this, or maybe he decided that it really would be for the best, but he finally nodded.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise asking silently, _really?_

Albus nodded. "Will you go with me?"

Harry's heart melted. "Of course. I will be there for you."

"Now?"

"I'm…I'm free now," said Harry.

"Then let's, as they say, get this over with."

Harry embraced Albus tightly, trying to convey all of his support and affection in one hug, and teleported them out.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review! **


	64. When I'm 64

**A/N: Short chapter. Sorry. So…turns out, I don't think there's 100k words worth of plot left in Shiny and Blue like I thought. I think I'm going to aim for…30k? Hopefully this will be done by the end of the summer, and then I may start on the sequel if I have time between my attempts at original fiction. Either way, I'm not going to rush to finish Shiny and Blue or abbreviate it in any way. It'll be done when it's done and no sooner, and you don't have to worry about me running off without finishing it.**

**Anyway. Here's a chapter. Enjoy. Review, please.**

* * *

Harry knew where Nurmengard was; he'd taken prisoners there, gone there to interrogate prisoners, and he even gone once in person just to let a prisoner go. Nurmengard was the prison Grindelwald built for his war prisoners, but now it was just for any magical lawbreakers. It was not guarded by dementors, as Azkaban was, but by trolls and wizards.

Even though Harry wasn't at the top of his power, he could still get into even the highest security cells due to his phoenix teleportation. The wizarding world really did underestimate things it didn't understand; Harry suspected even a house elf would be able to get into Nurmengard.

Harry teleported himself and Albus into the hallway directly outside of Grindelwald's cell. He knew where the cell was from when he witnessed, through the connection in their mind, Voldemort break in and interrogate Grindelwald about the Elder Wand.

They were in a hallway lined with steel doors. Each door had a little rectangular window with thick bars.

Harry was nervous. He regretted bringing Albus there a little; what if it went wrong? It would be Harry's fault. Albus looked calm, but Harry noticed a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead that said differently.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked quietly.

Albus gave Harry a half-hearted reassuring smile. "Will you take me in?"

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Thank you, Harry, but I need to do this alone. I'll knock when I'm ready to leave."

Harry nodded.

He grabbed Albus around the middle and teleported into the cell, and Harry teleported back out before he materialized fully.

Then he leaned against the wall and waited.

Harry couldn't hear anything from within the cell, so it seemed like an age to wait. Harry paced up and down the hall, having to turn invisible for a brief moment while a troll guard passed. Though it seemed long, it was, in fact, only two or three minutes before there came a light knock on the door and Harry went back in to get Albus.

Harry materialized in the cell.

"Gellert, this is Harry."

Gellert Grindelwald was sitting on a dirty, unmade cot with his elbows on his knees, and Albus was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Gellert had not aged nearly as well as Albus; his hair was long, gray, and tangled and he was wrinkled and flabby. Despite that, Harry could still see the Sandy Haired Thief in his eyes.

"Hello, Harry," said Grindelwald softly. "He's young," he said to Albus. "Watch out, boy, or you'll end up in a prison cell too."

Harry frowned at Grindelwald. He was fighting the urge to curse him. He only didn't because he knew the conflict between Grindelwald and Albus was none of his business, and making it his business might be rude.

"Thank you for the talk," said Albus pleasantly to Grindelwald, as if Grindelwald had had a choice to talk rather than been visited in his prison cell by the man who put him there.

"You're welcome," Gellert smiled, standing.

"I doubt we will meet again, Gellert, so this is goodbye."

Albus strode over to the cot and proffered his hand to shake. Gellert took it, and stole a kiss before Albus could move away.

Harry had no idea how he'd gotten over to the cot, but before he knew it, his fist had made contact with Gellert's face.

"Harry, please don't," Albus said, moving away and wiping his mouth off on a handkerchief.

"Sorry." Harry backed off.

Gellert got up off the floor, and as soon as he was upright, Albus punched him square in the face sending him back onto the floor.

Harry gaped in surprise. He didn't think Albus had that sort of violence in him. Perhaps he'd misunderstood the nature of their conflict.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Albus over Grindelwald's moans of pain.

"Ah…yes," said Harry, tearing his eyes away from Grindelwald.

Albus offered Harry his arm, and they vanished in a whirl of flame, but not before he thought he heard Grindelwald whisper, _"I'm sorry_."

* * *

When they were back in Harry's tower, Harry wanted to ask, "how did it go?" but he didn't have to.

"It was what I needed," said Albus, and he didn't elaborate.

Harry's eyes fell on the Resurrection Stone, still sitting on his bedside table. Albus, clearly, had also spotted it.

"What are you going to do about the stone?" Harry asked Albus.

Albus looked guilty. "If I'm honest, I…don't know. I want to tell you I won't use it, but…"

"What would you get out of using it? You can't undo what was done."

"Forgiveness," he said simply.

Harry had a hard time arguing with that. He chose to clean his glasses rather than arguing.

"But I don't trust myself to let it go at that. Using the stone would set me at the edge of a slippery slope, and it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Harry exhaled slowly, trying to cover his relief, and put his glasses back on.

"We should destroy it," Albus said.

"Er, what?…We can't," said Harry. If they destroyed it, Harry would never see his parents and Sirius and Lupin and would never work up the courage to meet Voldemort in the forest when he needed to.

"Harry, this object causes misery, misguided hope. I don't trust myself not to use it if it remains."

"You're going to have to trust me on this one. We can't destroy it."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I cannot sit by and let others fall prey to the same agony that I felt searching for this for so long."

"Fine," said Harry. "I needed it. There was a time…when I had to do something, and the stone was the only thing that got me through it. We can't destroy it because I need it in the future. Afterwards, I lost it and nobody will ever find it again. Keep it safe, and nobody will ever have the false hope that you had."

"And you? How could it possibly have helped you?"

"I…wouldn't say it gave me hope. It gave me comfort. Trust me; I needed it."

"I will agree to this on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That we look inside the vault before deciding."

"The…the vault?" Harry was confused by the sudden change in topic. "The Peverell vault that gets opened by the stone? I don't see why not." Besides, Harry knew there was no way to change the future. No matter what, the stone would survive. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Albus just wanted to see what was in the vault, regardless of the decision.

"I feel that if I see its contents, I will be less likely to use the stone myself." Harry shrugged. "Good. Do you have the cloak?" asked Albus.

"We should tell Minerva that you're alright before we leave. She's had…a really bad day, and I don't think she'd like it if we went off without telling her."

Albus nodded.

"You could have tried a little harder to warn her about Tom Riddle being 'Elijah'," said Harry.

"I underestimated him," said Albus. "I presumed him to be of a normal caliber of dark wizard. I did not anticipate the level of darkness he has descended to. A _Horcrux_, Harry…Did you know?"

Harry nodded.

"Fortunately, he hasn't the ambition that Gellert did or we'd have another war impending," said Albus. Harry grimaced. Albus saw his face. "Tom Riddle will be—?"

"Quite as bad and worse," said Harry. "There's a war. Two, actually. The first one will start in about…ten years. You can try all you want to prevent it, but you can't change time. The best thing you can do is teach your students how to protect themselves."

"I have you for that," said Albus, sincerely gazing at Harry.

Harry was both flattered and a little horrified; he felt he was the only thing between Lord Voldemort and the entire wizarding world. At least the feeling wasn't new.

"You're right. We should ask Minerva to accompany us to the vault," said Albus.

"What? I didn't say—"

"I would like to have her there," said Albus.

Harry was surprised. He thought this would be some kind of emotional, cathartic moment for Albus. Maybe he wanted Minerva there to keep it academic. Maybe it was for Minerva's sake. Either way, Harry didn't have any objections.

Through some miracle of timing, that was the exact moment when Fawkes reappeared in Harry's tower, signaling that Minerva was most likely in her room.

"Be right back."

Harry disappeared and reappeared outside Minerva's room and knocked.

She answered the door a second later.

"Hello, Crockett."

"Hey, Minerva. Albus is fine, just so you know."

"Good," said Minerva. She stood in the door way with her arms folded.

"Er. Did you and Nicolas…store the venom?"

"Yes," said Minerva. She pulled a little silver box with many latches out of her robes and handed it to Harry. She crossed her arms again.

"Thanks. So…er…that stone thing that cursed Albus? It's the key to the third vault…"

"That's nice," said Minerva, disinterested.

"And we thought you might…want to come to open it with us."

The look on Minerva's face showed Harry that she had to go back and remember what he'd said because she'd been too busy acting disinterested to listen.

"You…that ring's the…Resurrection Stone?"

Harry nodded.

"You want me to come with you?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Well," said Minerva. She pulled off her glasses and began absentmindedly cleaning them on her robes. It took her a while before she looked back at Harry.

"I suppose…I could." Clearly, she was trying to act like she was still angry at somebody. Harry wondered if it was at Riddle, or at Albus for not warning her sufficiently, or if she'd gone back to being passive aggressive at Harry and Albus for being together.

"Great!" Harry smiled. "We're going now. Ready?"

Minerva grabbed Harry's arm, and they teleported back to Harry's room. Harry grabbed his cloak from a drawer, and Albus grabbed his ring and wand from the bedside table.

The three of them crouched under the cloak and waddled awkwardly to Harry's vanishing cabinet. Harry was reminded for a moment of his two best friends Ron and Hermione under this cloak and the many adventures they'd had. Here he was, going on another adventure with his two best friends. They climbed inside the cabinet and a second later, they were tumbling out into Ignotus Peverell's vault.

The three of them exited the vault, into the antechamber.

And there, in front of them, was a giant circle on the wall marking the vault of Cadmus Peverell and the Resurrection Stone.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please!**


	65. The Third Vault

**A/N: Heck yes, two chapters in two days. So, plot's gunna start moving fast. If this doesn't make sense **_**please tell me in a review so that I can explain it in the next chapter**_**. ****How did yall enjoy the last Harry Potter movie? I liked it, but I thought they left some important stuff out. For my full opinion (rant), see my profile.**

**Enjoy the chapter! **

* * *

Harry, Albus, and Minerva stood in the antechamber to the Peverell vaults. Specifically, they were in front of Cadmus Peverell's vault, the one that they could open with the Resurrection Stone.

"So," said Harry, "Anyone know how to open this?"

"Well, we opened your vault by going under the Cloak," said Minerva.

"I opened the vault of Antioch by casting _alohomora _with the Elder Wand," said Albus.

"Then it stands to reason that we would open this vault by _using_ the Resurrection Stone," concluded Minerva. "Maybe a dead person will appear and open the door for us."

Harry's stomach lurched.

"No," he said. "There must be another way."

He took the stone from Albus and looked at it for a moment. Then he reached out with it and touched it to the center of the circle on the wall. Nothing happened. He put it on his finger, and walked towards the barrier and slammed into it.

"What are you _doing, _Crockett?"

"I…thought it might be like King's Cross," said Harry sheepishly.

"I think one of us has to, you know, _use _it," said Minerva.

Harry sighed. It was stupid to have hoped for anything else. "Yeah, but which one of us?"

"You," said Albus and Minerva in unison.

"I don't want to bring back anyone I know from the dead. I don't actually know anyone who's died, really," said Minerva.

"It should be you, Harry, if you're comfortable with it. If you aren't, we don't have to do this," said Albus.

Harry actually found that he didn't mind. He'd come to terms with the deaths of everyone he'd lost. It might be bittersweet seeing Lupin again or his parents or Sirius, but it was something he could handle.

"Alright," he said. "You won't be able to see them. They'll just be here for me…Here goes." He flipped the stone over three times and looked around.

He could tell immediately that it hadn't worked. When he'd used the stone in the Forbidden Forest, he'd felt the presence of the ghosts, but he did not feel it now.

"Did it work?" asked Minerva.

"Er…no," said Harry.

"Harry, are the people you're trying to bring back…have they already passed away?" asked Albus, wording very carefully.

"What do you mean," asked Minerva. "Why would he try to bring people back who weren't already dead?"

"Oh," said Harry. Neither his parents, nor Lupin and Sirius had died yet. "Oops."

Minerva looked thoroughly confused as she still did not, of course, know that Harry was from the future.

Harry cast around for somebody who had died since he'd gone back in time. Only one came to mind.

Wister Bloom.

This was going to be more difficult than Harry thought it was.

He bit his lip.

"Er…I have to bring back Wister."

"_Why?_" asked Minerva.

"Do you need a moment alone to talk with him?" asked Albus.

Harry grimaced. "Probably."

"Harry—why are you bringing Wister Bloom back? Why do you need a minute to talk to him?" asked Minerva.

"Minerva, I am a famous hero from the future so I don't know anyone who's already died in this time except Wister who I accidentally killed, so I need to apologize to him."

"You're so full of shit, Crockett. Will you just give me a straight answer?"

Harry shrugged.

"Let's go, Minerva. Let's go in there…" Albus threw the cloak over himself and Minerva and they vanished. A moment later, their footsteps faded away, and Harry could tell they'd gone into Ignotus's vault.

Harry took a deep breath and turned the stone over three times, all the while worrying about just how messy it was going to be to bring back a man he'd killed.

This time, he knew it worked. He turned around, and there was the former Herbology professor Wister Bloom, with his dirty blond hair and a fitted pastel sweater vest. He looked a few years younger than when Harry had first met him. Perhaps this was his look from a time before he knew Voldemort.

"Hello, Harry," said Wister.

"Wister…I…"

"I know why you brought me here, Harry. I can open the vault."

"No…that's…"

"Don't worry. I understand."

"Wister, I'm so sorry."

"I know," said Wister. He gazed over at Harry, and Harry shrank a little. "I forgive you."

"You…you what?"

"I forgive you. I know how sorry you are, and I know you weren't in your right mind. Just…do me a favor."

"Sure," said Harry.

"Please make sure the Dark Lord doesn't hurt anyone else."

Harry's heart twinged. "I…I can't do that," he said. "I can't promise you that when I know for a fact he will hurt a lot more people."

"I know you can stop him," said Wister.

"I will stop him. It might take me a while, and people will get hurt," said Harry, "But I'll stop him."

"Thank you, Harry. Now, are you ready to go in the vault?"

"Yeah, hold on," said Harry. He turned to face the part of the wall where the triangle was and waved, knowing Albus and Minerva were watching, but not listening. A moment later, they emerged from the cloak outside the vault.

"I can bring them through, too, but they must touch the stone," said Wister.

"Alright, he says you have to touch the stone," Harry told Minerva and Albus.

Minerva and Albus crossed the antechamber and each put a finger on the stone in Harry's hand.

"Oh!" said Minerva. "Wister! Is it really you?"

Wister nodded.

"You can see him?" asked Harry, surprised.

Minerva nodded. "Yes. Albus, can you see him?"

Albus's eyes were wide, and he'd gone completely white as if…as if he'd seen a ghost. He wasn't looking at Wister, but at a point in space about four feet off the ground. Harry and Minerva watched him. He stood completely still, his eyes never moving.

"Albus, are you alright?" asked Minerva.

Harry's look silenced her.

Albus eyes remained fixed on the spot, emotions roiling under his face like an ocean. But then he smiled, and a tear trickled down his cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I promise." And then walked into the third vault, pulling Harry and Minerva with him.

They headed straight into the solid wall with the circle on it, but like King's Cross, they walked straight through it.

On the other side was a large, round room, and the first thing Harry noticed was a rather noisy chatter. All around the room were giant, larger than life portraits, and most of them were having conversations.

Then a beautiful woman in one of the portraits spotted the trio and shrieked.

"_Visitors!_"

The portraits went silent immediately.

"Er…hello," said Harry after a few seconds.

"Hello, good day," said all of the portraits respectfully. There seemed to be an purposefully affected sense of solemnity in their overall tone. It made Harry feel like he was the next of kin at a funeral.

"Who are all of you?" asked Minerva.

"We are portraits of those who have been brought back with the Stone," said an old man in the portrait closest to them. "It's an automatic magical process."

"Oh," said Minerva. "Thanks."

"Are there any records of the previous owners of the Stone?" asked Albus softly.

"There is a writing desk over there," said the man. He pointed across the room.

Harry looked around the room properly for the first time. The whole room was about the size of a quidditch pitch. There was the writing desk. Apart from the large portraits on the walls, the only things in the room were a writing desk where the man had pointed, and an old armchair in front of a few portraits to their left.

"When did you live?" asked Albus of the man.

"I was born in 1792, and my son brought me back. It turns out, he just needed to ask where I put the keys to the shop before I died." The man chuckled. "He did say a proper goodbye, though."

Harry, Albus, and Minerva thanked him, and made their way over to the desk.

Half way there, someone called out to them, and the three of them stopped.

"You there, who are you?" said a deep voice in a highly polished accent.

"Er…I'm Harry," said Harry. "Who are you?"

"Arthur. King Arthur of Britain. Are you a wizard?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Um…you weren't a wizard, were you?"

"No, sir, I am not, though I did have certain dealings with one or two."

"Oh," said Harry. Arthur came on pretty strong, and Harry found himself overwhelmed.

"Well? Go about your way, sir."

"Er…nice to meet you," said Harry. "Your highness," he added.

The three continued to the desk.

Behind the desk itself was a beautiful woman with long, dark hair.

"Hello," said Albus to the portrait. "My name is Albus."

"I am Annabelle."

"You knew Cadmus," said Albus.

She nodded.

"May we look in the desk?" asked Albus.

"You may," she said. "The writings of all of Cadmus and the visitors (few as they have been), are for you to read."

"Thank you," Albus said.

He knelt in front of the desk, pulled out the bottom drawer and lifted what looked like a manuscript out of it. He flipped through the pages.

"What is it?" asked Minerva.

"This looks like the story of someone's life." Albus looked up at the portrait of Annabelle. "Is there somebody here named Elizabeth Wells?"

"Yes," she said. "She joined us in the fourteenth century. Her portrait is there." Annabelle pointed to her right.

"Thank you," said Albus, and he put the stack of pages back into the drawer.

Harry drew open another drawer, and found a broad leather-bound notebook there. He flipped it open and found dozens of charcoal drawings, mostly of one young man with dark curly hair, a sweet smile and hopeful eyes.

"Oh!" said Minerva.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"I found Cadmus's journal." She flipped it open. "It's in runes. Would you like me to translate?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," said Albus.

Minerva flipped to a random page and began reading. "_'My brother Ignotus has confiscated the Mirror of Desire from me—_'"

"Oh, the Mirror of Erised? I wonder if that's the same thing. They must have gotten it backwards in translation," said Harry. "The Mirror of Erised is in Ignotus's vault."

"It is possible that they are one in the same," said Albus. "Continue, Minerva."

"'_He worries for my health, spending time in front of it as I do. He does not understand the longing I feel…But how dare he remove an object of my own creation? I should have left it in my vault rather than in our home where he could find and take it. It matters not. Soon I will finish creating an object that will render my mirror obsolete._'"

"I presume he is discussing his plans to create the Stone," said Albus.

"Then they must have had these vaults before the Hallows existed," said Minerva.

"Keep reading," said Harry.

Minerva flipped a few pages. "_'My hallowed Stone of Resurrection nears completion. My brothers, too, are finishing lifelong projects. We have each selected these items to be the keys to our vaults, and together they shall open the gates to our home.' _Don't we have all three? We could go look at their house."

"Flip to the end," said Harry.

Minerva glared at him, and turned to the last page with writing.

"'_I am now sorry I ever tried to disturb my Annabelle's peace. She deserves more than to be a ghost in this ghastly world. I know now that there is only one way I will truly be with her again. _

"'_I have left the stone with a jeweler. I have asked that he set the stone in a ring. I care not what he does with it when he discovers I am gone. In fact, I leave it with him because I know not what else is to be done with it. _

"'_The last words I wish to write are of my love for Annabelle. My passion for her will transcend even death.'"_

Minerva stopped reading.

"That's all," she said.

They were quiet for a moment.

"It didn't seem so horrible in a Children's story," she said.

"At least you didn't have to watch."

All three of them looked up, for it was Annabelle who had spoken. Her beautiful painted face was tear streaked from listening to Minerva read. "I begged him not to; everybody has a time, and rushing to that time is horrible."

"I'm so sorry," whispered Albus. He wiped a tear from under his glasses.

Harry wondered how often it was that a dead person had to be consoled about someone dying.

"I have seen enough," said Albus.

Minerva nodded once.

"It has been an honor, Annabelle."

Annabelle nodded to Albus and smiled. "We'll take care of her."

"Thank you," said Albus.

And with that, Harry, Albus, and Minerva began walking back towards the exit. Harry puzzled about what Annabelle's last words meant until they passed the one and only armchair. Harry looked up at the portraits in front of it. Wister Bloom stood in one, looking like a Madam Malcolm's model, and in the other, smiling down at them, was Arianna Dumbledore.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please!**


	66. The Final Vault

**A/N: Wow that took soo long. I had about…three paragraphs written, and I kept going back and just…nitpicking them over and over until I finally figured out that I wasn't writing more because I had no idea how to get to my next plot point. Heh. But here it is, all fixed. Thanks , Nathan and Vanessa, for helping. I'll try to get the next one up faster. I'm going on a family vacation soon which always means TONS of writing because I'll be in a car the whole time. So. Yay for that. Anyway. Go read the chapter. Then review it. Please. Thanks.**

* * *

Harry, Albus, and Minerva were back in the antechamber between the three Peverell vaults. Minerva was examining the ring, Albus seemed to be examining a spot on his robes, and Harry was examining the night's events, for it had been a very, very long night so far.

First, he'd prepared for his second date with Albus, only to have to rescue Albus from the Gaunt shack. Then, with the help of Tom Riddle, who had been posing as Minerva's new boyfriend "Elijah," he had milked a basilisk of its venom to destroy the horcrux that was keeping Albus in a coma. Then, Harry and Albus visited Nurmengard so that Albus could speak to Grindelwald. Then, Albus, Harry and Minerva had visited the third vault, where Harry was forced to confront Wister Bloom, the Hogwarts Herbology teacher who had turned out to be Voldemort's servant, and whom Harry himself had killed.

Meanwhile, Harry was now certain that Albus had accidentally resurrected his sister, Arianna. Harry actually thought it might be a good thing to have happened; it meant that Albus had gotten a chance to exchange a word or two with Arianna without actually having to make the choice to do so. Since Albus didn't actually choose to bring her back, perhaps it meant that he wouldn't feel like he was obligated to in the future. It occurred to Harry that Arianna may have even asked Albus not to bring her back again.

Whether or not that was true, all three of them were decidedly done with the third vault.

So they stood around for a bit, and the first one to speak was Minerva.

"So, are we going to go into the fourth vault or what?"

"What? What fourth vault?" Harry asked.

"Remember—when we first came down here, we read a letter from Peverell. I can't remember what it says exactly…Oh—let's just go look."

Harry shrugged, interested, and held out the cloak for his two friends. They all awkwardly put it on, and crouched low (Albus, especially), and entered Ignotus's vault. Once inside, Minerva made a beeline to the desk and opened the letter that lay on the top. She scanned down …

"…Blah blah blah, Hallows are the keys, blah blah…oh! Here it is. '_In thine entry, thou has likely notice'ed the fourth gyte inne the roome. It is a porte to our shayred family inheritance. Our dysagreement centred arounde who would inherette it upon our deaths. As a compromyse, we hath decided that it shalt be open to whomsoever comes across all three of our legacys. Thou need'est to master all three Halowes to entyr. Mine brothers have perished and thyr Hallowes hath vanished, so I fyre itte wilt be seal'ed foreveremore upon my deathe.'_"

"I forgot about that," said Harry. "Wow, we could go there right now. We have all three Hallows with us."

"It's possible that nobody's been there since the Peverells themselves lived," said Minerva.

"Yeah, probably. We might be able to tell when we get there. There might be letters or something…Does it say anything about how to get in?"

"No…it just says you need to master all three Hallows. We have all three. Maybe we have to open all three doors at once."

"Good idea," said Harry. "But did you see a door?"

"The floor," said Albus, his voice a little raspier than usual. Harry and Minerva both realized that that was the first time he'd spoken since they were in the other vault.

"I'm sorry?" asked Minerva.

"The entrance is through the floor," said Albus.

Harry and Minerva thought about it for a moment.

"Okay, I guess that sounds right," said Harry. "Let's go back outside."

So they ducked back under the invisibility cloak and were soon back out in the antechamber.

"So, what do you recon? We should each take a Hallow and stand over here…"

Harry went over to the big Deathly Hallows symbol on the floor and stood on one of the corners of the triangle. Minerva and Albus each gravitated to one of the other corners of the triangle. They each had a Hallow.

"Now, Albus, you cast _Alohomora_ with the wand, Minerva, you…you use the stone, and I'll go under the—"

But before any of them could do anything, the floor beneath them started sinking.

"Oh!" Minerva exclaimed in surprise. She stumbled toward the center of the symbol, thrown off balance by the movement. Harry and Albus both moved towards the center of the symbol instinctually, as well, looking all around and above them. The only part of the floor that was sinking was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, like a big triangular elevator. Soon, the rest of the floor rose above eye level and showed no sign of stopping. In fact, it was accelerating. Before they knew it, the triangle of light above was only the size of a postage stamp, and they kept descending.

"_Lumos,"_ muttered Albus, and his wand tip lit.

Finally, when the light above was hardly distinguishable as a triangle, it was so far away, something appeared at the bottom of one of the walls—something made of wood.

And as they kept descending, it quickly grew into a grand set of double doors with ornately carved wood. When the floor of the symbol sank to the level of the bottom of the doors, it stopped descending.

"You reckon it's through there?" asked Harry.

"Well, where else would it be, Crockett?" Minerva rapped her knuckles on one of the doors. "Knock knock."

They all looked at the great, carved, wooden doors. They looked very familiar to Harry, and he looked at Albus to ask if it was… and Albus was looking right back at him with that same expression of astonished recognition, but before either of them could voice their realization, Minerva had gone ahead and pushed them open.

And there it was, like both Harry and Albus had known as soon as they looked at the doors, the grand Entry Hall of Hogwarts.

"_What?_ No way," said Minerva. "The Peverell family lived at the Hogwarts castle?"

Albus was smiling and his eyes were twinkling in amusement. Harry laughed out loud.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't have expected anything _less _from the Peverell family," reasoned Minerva, leading the way inside, looking around in awe. The doors swung shut behind them just as the great clock chimed. It was one in the morning.

"I wonder—this means that one of the four Hogwarts founders may have been a master of death," said Albus. "And if that is so, who of the four?"

Minerva and Harry looked at each other.

"Gryffindor," they said together.

"His stuff was in the vault," said Harry.

Albus hummed in thought. "Perhaps. There may be clues elsewhere. I will consult Hogwarts, A History."

"Surely there are some journals of Gryffindor's in your vault," said Minerva to Harry. "Those might help."

"Probably," said Harry, "but don't call me Shirley."

"Are we sure that this is, actually, the Hogwarts castle?" asked Minerva.

"Yes," said both Harry and Albus. They looked at each other, and Harry knew they were feeling the same thing—a certainty that they could feel the consciousness of the castle that they each knew as home. It wasn't a trick or a mistake.

Albus looked away.

All three of them stood in the Entry Hall, looking up and around as if they were seeing it for the first time. Each one was lost in thought, trying to think about how all of it was historically possible.

Finally, Albus spoke. "I would invite you both back to my office for a cup of tea and a research party, but I'm afraid I would fall asleep on you," he said. "In light of this conclusion, I may have to wish you both goodnight."

"Yeah, I'm knackered," said Harry, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"Well, goodnight, then?" said Minerva.

They all said their goodnights. Minerva and Albus drifted off towards their rooms, and Harry teleported back to his tower.

He undressed slowly, not really thinking about much. He cleaned his glasses, for they seemed to have accumulated some of the combined filth of the Chamber of Secrets and Nurmengard. He brushed his teeth, put on pajamas, and climbed into bed.

The second he closed his eyes, he was flying over fields and roads—hoping, just hoping he wouldn't be too late to save Albus. And he finally saw the Gaunt Shack and teleported inside, only to find Albus cold and lifeless.

He opened his eyes, sat up, and shook his head violently, trying to get the images out. He lay back down again and shut his eyes once more.

His imagination took him back to Nurmengard…he was waiting outside Grindelwald's cell for Albus to knock. The knock came, and Harry teleported inside.

And there was Gellert Gindelwald standing over Albus's body. There was blood everywhere. Grindelwald grinned crazily at Harry, then bent to pull the Elder Wand from Albus's dead fingers.

"Agh!" Harry cried out. What was wrong with his imagination? Why couldn't he re-live something _happy_ and _relaxing _like kissing Albus!

He closed his eyes and tried to do just that…but as soon as they kissed in Harry's imagination, Albus transformed into Tom Riddle and began pulling at Harry's clothes and—

Harry violently threw off his covers and got out of bed. He shook himself all over and decided that a walk would do him some good, after all.

He pulled on a bathrobe and put on a pair of slippers before levitating himself down through his trapdoor and out of his tower (it was so nice to be able to do that again! Climbing down a ladder when his powers were gone had gotten old really fast). He shuffled slowly through corridors and down stairs until he found himself in the basement of the castle where the portrait of the fruit bowl hung, the entrance to the kitchens. Maybe he should eat something, he thought.

Just when he reached out to tickle the pear, he heard someone behind him.

He spun around to see Minerva shuffling down the hall, dressed in a tartan dressing gown (which showed considerably more leg than the one she wore in the future).

"What are you doing down here, Crockett?" she asked.

"Couldn't sleep," said Harry. "You?"

"The same," she said. "I thought a walk, a cup of tea and a biscuit would do me good. Every time I close my eyes, Riddle's there waiting for me with his lips all puckered and…ugh!"

"You too, huh?"

Minerva grimaced.

"Mind if I…"

"Not at all. I could use the company, I guess," said Harry.

Harry reached out and tickled the pear. It giggled and laughed, and finally turned into a door knob, which Harry turned and used to pull the painting-door open.

The kitchens were fairly quiet and mostly deserted. Nonetheless, a house elf greeted them and showed them to a small table where they could sip their tea and eat their biscuits. Neither of them really said anything.

A few minutes after they sat down, the portrait door opened again. They both looked up to see Albus walk in wearing a pair of pajamas that matched his eyes, a satin nightcap, and an elegant dressing gown.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Minerva as soon as Albus spotted them.

"Have some tea," said Harry.

Albus smiled, and the three of them sat together sipping tea until the breakfast rush began, and the house elves kicked them out.

* * *

**A/N: Review, please!**


	67. Things Fall Apart

**A/N: Yay for fast updates. ALSO. I think I just hit 200k words. YES. Hell yes. Thanks for sticking with me, folks.**

**Anyway, I'm actually fairly happy with this chapter. I hope you like it, too. Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry awoke on Monday morning and realized that he was going to be late for class.

He jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of robes, and, as an afterthought, tucked the Resurrection Stone ring in an inside pocket; Albus had asked him to keep it safe.

He teleported directly to his office next to his classroom, glanced around habitually to see if there was anything he might have forgotten. He spotted the score board between he and Albus and sighed. It was still 8 to 5, and Harry was losing. They hadn't had much time for playing games in the last few weeks.

Once he was sure he had everything, he made his dramatic entrance into the classroom full of…

Nobody was there. He scratched his head and looked at his watch. He was exactly on time, which made every single student exactly late. This had never happened before. Few people had _ever_ been late to his classes, and when they were, they _always _had good reasons for it.

Harry strode to the classroom door and stuck his head outside only to get a face full of ink, completely obscuring his vision.

"Crack-Pot Crockett! Crack-Pot Crockett!"

That voice was so familiar—a voice Harry hadn't heard in years. Harry quickly wiped ink off of his glasses with the sleeve of his robes and there, zooming up and down the hall and cackling like mad, was Peeves the Poltergeist.

Harry suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Peeves at all since he fell back in time. He hadn't even noticed Peeves was missing.

"Peeves!"

"Crack-Pot Crockett, Crack—Crack-Pot knows Peevesies's name?" said Peeves, wheeling around in midair in surprise.

"Yeah…why—where did you come from?"

Peeves grinned. "I got out, I did! Crept back out of the dungeons, I did."

"You've been in the dungeons all this time? For how long?"

Peeves began bouncing himself off the ceiling over and over. "A thousand years, I waited, trapped. Ever since the Forest with Helena—that Bloody Baron killed me, he did. So I came back here, so I came back here," he sang, "—I've been locked away so long, but now Peeves is free!" He started zooming down the hall away from Harry, occasionally bouncing off a wall. Harry ran to catch up.

"Wait…wait! The Bloody Baron killed you?" Harry asked. Well, that would explain why Peeves was so afraid of him. "When? In the forest in Albania with Helena Ravenclaw after she stole the Diadem?"

"I was her guide in the forest!

"_Every day she needed me, _

"_To find some food or climb a tree, _

"_Got killed by the Bloody B, _

"_And now I'm out, completely free!"_ he sang.

Peeves wasn't mischievous, Harry realized, he was _mad_. Raving mad from a thousand years trapped in a dungeon.

"Which dungeon were you in? How come nobody found you?"

"I was deep, I was. The deepest dungeon vault of them all! Crack-pot Crockett! Crack-pot Crockett!" Peeves zoomed around a corner and Harry lost him.

But what he saw when he rounded that corner was enough to make him forget Peeves entirely, and he skidded to a stop just before he crashed into a crowd of students.

He had entered the giant room where the moving staircases hung, but instead of hanging, all of the flights of stairs were smashed against the ground in front of Harry, now a twenty foot high pile of stone rubble. Harry gasped in horror and looked up at the empty room. Students were crowded on the edge of each of the landings, looking down to see the mess and muttering to one another. The portraits were gossiping madly, quite shaken themselves.

Harry elbowed his way through the students. "_Homenum Revelio_!" he incanted immediately, not bothering to pull out his fake wand.

There was nobody trapped under the pile of rubble staircases—nobody alive, anyway.

"Could I have silence, please." All of the echoing conversations came to an abrupt halt.

Harry looked up to see that Albus had appeared on one of the top landings, all the way up at the top of the room, and it was he who had spoken.

"It was not my intention," continued Albus, "to distract you from your classes by announcing this unfortunate happening. I will say again; no one has been injured by the staircases, and I, and the rest of the faculty, will do all that we can to find out why this has happened and make sure it does not happen again. In the meantime, please go about your day. There are plenty of other stairways. Pip pip! Off you go." The students slowly started reluctantly shuffling off.

Harry teleported up to the seventh floor landing where Albus was standing.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"Some time in the early morning, is my best guess," Albus responded. "It was after I retrieved my ear muffs from the Great Hall at three in the morning, and before students are allowed out of their dormitories at six, and for that I am grateful. This would have been catastrophic had there been anyone on or under the stairs."

Harry shook his head in disbelief (more at Albus's need to fetch his ear muffs from the great hall at three in the morning than at the Grand Staircase falling).

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Harry asked.

"Ah…well…there's…no," said Albus. "Have you any theories?"

"Well…You probably figured this out, but I think it's probably related to the other time that staircase fell, and maybe all that other stuff that's been happening," he said referring to the ceiling of the Great Hall going out, and the kitchens not working, and the Room of Requirement turning into a howling abyss.

Something moved across the room, and Harry's eyes immediately tracked to it. It was Peeves.

"Have you met Peeves yet?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry?" asked Albus.

"Peeves the Poltergeist. He…er…that's him over there. Says he was just let out of the dungeons—I knew him when I was a student…called me the same nickname then, too… 'Crack-Pot Potter…'"

"Is he dangerous?"

"Not really. He makes a mess…he's sort of a pain, but he's never done anything much worse than drop ink pots on people's heads and make a lot of noise…"

He trailed off, then had an idea.

"Oi, Peeves!"

Peeves zoomed over to Harry just to blow a raspberry and fly away again.

"See what I mean? I was going to ask him what time he escaped, because it might be related to all of this," he gestured to the rubble. "I'm not going to get anything out of him now. I have class. Maybe you could try. He always respected you…"

"'Scuse me," said a voice from their left.

Harry and Albus turned to see a small portrait of a young boy in a messenger cap and tatty clothing.

"Hello," said Albus.

"'Scuse me, 'fessor, but I couldn't 'elp but or'ear, but it was 'round four thirty this morn when tha' there staircase fell," said the little boy.

"That is very helpful, thank you."

"'Enry," he said.

"Thank you, Henry." Albus nodded. "Have a nice class," he said to Harry.

Harry teleported off, back to his classroom, now full of first years (wow! How did you do that! Does the fire burn you?").

He taught his lessons as normal, and went about his day.

At dinner, though, came another shock. When Harry entered the Great Hall, he noticed that the students were whispering rather than talking boisterously. He looked up to see that the magical sky-ceiling had once again gone out. High above them were merely…stone arches. A grand castle ceiling, so ordinary when compared to what it had been.

Harry jogged up to the front table. "And when did _this_ happen?" he asked Albus, who was already half way through his meal.

"Forty three minutes ago, according to the Friar" said Albus, "and I still only have theories…"

"Care to share?"

"Something or somebody is interfering with the castle's natural magical field," he said. "Or the enchantments that were originally put into place to move the stairs and make our ceiling the sky are just now wearing off. It has been a thousand years, after all, and I don't know of them ever being updated."

"Has the stairway started working again?"

"No," said Albus.

"Is there anything else that might stop working soon? The kitchens? That could be bad…"

"I should alert the kitchen staff to that possibility and get them ready for the necessity for them to leave the castle to buy food."

"How does it work, normally?"

"The castle has sources all over the world; that's why we have fresh fruit and vegetables year round. We pay the sources by the month. They put the food into lockers, and it appears in our lockers and ice chests. When the kitchens stopped working before, the house elves said that there was no more food in the lockers. If that happened again, we would have enough food for a few meals. I would need to ask the elves exactly how many."

"Is there anything else that might be dangerous?"

"I know parts of the castle have been held up by magic. I will search the school and reinforce these areas…perhaps I should enlist the assistance of Filius."

"I would be happy to help, but I don't think my magic's up to architectural enchantments yet."

"How is your magic coming, by the way?" asked Albus.

"I cast _Homenum Revelio_ earlier. Magically, I may be almost where I was when I finished school. I'm still having trouble with occlumency, though. I've been keeping my…er…"

"Soul objects?"

"Yeah. I've been keeping those in my room so that I don't accidentally give my students a blast of paranoia or uncontrollable joy in the middle of class."

"There were seven parts of your soul, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"One of them has always been your body, and the broom broke, the wand broke, and the part that Fawkes carried is now in you?"

Harry nodded again. "Which leaves me with the hat, which is sort of my happy feelings, the bowling ball, which is anger and paranoia and stuff, and the record, which I'm pretty sure is instincts like 'run, eat, sleep,'…and things."

"Where has Fawkes been?"

"He comes by occasionally, but I think he's traveling most of the time."

Albus nodded. He grabbed Harry's hand from under the table and gave it a squeeze.

"You'll have to excuse me. I should find Filius." He gazed into Harry's eyes, and Harry felt color flow to his cheeks.

"Oh, get a room," muttered Minerva from behind Albus.

* * *

Tuesday was subdued. The effect on the mood of the staircase falling and the ceiling going out—and staying out—reminded Harry of when Tom Riddle's Chamber of Secrets messages were written on the wall in his second years. The students were talking about it, but in whispers. During the five minute break in Harry's afternoon double second-year class, Harry overheard a conversation between three Ravenclaw students sitting on the floor:

"I heard that the muggles found us and are shutting off all the magic," said one girl.

"Don't be stupid," said a boy. "Muggles could never find us."

"Well, _I_ heard— from that big Slytherin _fifth _year—that it's because the castle's rejecting Dumbledore as headmaster. He's only been in since our first year, you know. Before that he did Transfiguration. You know, nobody really knows how Dippet died—he was the last headmaster. Dumbledore says he found him dead in the woods. I bet Dumbledore wanted his spot and offed him—"

Harry cleared his throat and the three students looked up. All three shrank downward when they saw it was Harry.

"I promise you," he said darkly, "_Professor_ Dumbledore has never murdered anyone and never will. Five points from Ravenclaw for each of you for slander and gossip. Have some respect. He's who will keep you safe."

The students all looked down and didn't say anything. Harry nodded and paced back up to the front of the classroom to resume the lesson.

* * *

It was Wednesday morning before anything else happened, and when it did, it only seemed to amplify the feeling that the whole school was holding its breath before plunging into ice cold water.

Albus had noticed that Harry was ever an early riser, and consequently invited him to his tower for breakfast that Wednesday. Harry, naturally, was thrilled and accepted.

So Harry woke up early on Wednesday morning and went to Albus's office, where many of the portraits of old headmasters were still snoring in their frames wearing curlers and nightcaps. Harry and Albus sat together in an alcove away from the portraits, though, and watched as the sun rose higher and sipped tea and ate toast with raspberry jam and talked.

"So, how did your castle enchantment fixing go?" asked Harry.

"Filius and I found a number of places where the enchantments were weakening. We supplemented those places with new enchantments, but I'm afraid ours won't last nearly as long as the originals. Either enchantments are not what they used to be, or the old ones were powered by something and the power is going away."

Harry frowned.

"That's scary. It's like all of the magic of the whole castle's just…drying up."

"And I don't know how to stop it." Albus removed his glasses and was wiping his face with open palms. It took Harry a moment to realize how upset that thought made Albus. Harry got out of his chair and walked around behind Albus to massage his shoulders.

"Albus—don't worry. I know for a fact that everything will be alright." He squeezed a little harder, and Albus let his hands fall to his lap and his chin droop to give Harry more access to his spine. "This isn't permanent," Harry continued, working his hands up to Albus's neck. "It was never like this when I went to school. It'll all be fine."

Albus sighed. "What would I do without you?"

Harry tried to make some sarcastic reply, but he was too touched by the remark to come up with anything good.

"I know what I'd do without you," said Albus, picking up where Harry was unable to go. "I would be spending my whole year worrying about what Tom Riddle was teaching my students…No, I'd like to think I never would have hired him."

Harry was reminded suddenly and unpleasantly that he had a _date, _of all things, scheduled with _Lord Voldemort_, of all people, that very Friday, of all times. And he hadn't told Albus. He was just about to do so when Albus suddenly stiffened under Harry's hands.

"What? Are you—"

"Be quiet a moment, please, Harry."

Harry fell silent, listening with all his might, but he couldn't hear anything but his own heartbeat in his ears from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He looked down at Albus.

"Do you hear that?" Albus asked.

"Hear what? I don't hear anything."

"Exactly. It's quiet—nearly silent in here."

"I don't—"

"The portraits, Harry." Albus was out of his chair and in the middle of the office before Harry could turn around. The stricken look on his face was enough to make Harry's blood run cold. Harry joined him in the center of the office and looked where Albus was looking.

The portraits had frozen.

Each headmaster or headmistress was frozen in one position—snoozing, pulling a curler out of her hair, blowing his nose, midsentence with a neighbor. All of them were still.

"They…they've stopped," said Harry. All of a sudden, it seemed horribly morbid to have these frozen paintings of dead professors on the walls. Harry tore his eyes away from the walls and looked back at Albus, who was still looking around horrorstruck. Neither of them had any doubt that it was somehow a continuation of the occurrences happening all over the school.

Harry faced Albus squarely, put his hands back on Albus's shoulders and kept rubbing until he relaxed. Albus looked down into Harry's eyes and smiled weakly, and Harry couldn't help but steal a kiss. When he tried to pull away, he found that Albus had snaked an arm around him to hold him in place. They gently rested their foreheads together.

"We'll work this," Harry reassured. He only wished he believed it himself, but deep down he knew it was going to get worse before it got better.

And he was right.

* * *

**A/N: Please remember to review! It's pretty easy. Click the button, words in the box, click another button. Thanks. =)**


	68. Hungry Like the Wolf

**A/N: Yeah, fast posts. We are nearing the end of this fic. I sense…perhaps…five more chapters. It will be all wrapped up nicely, and all that. So. Thanks for sticking with me this long—it's just a wee bit longer. (And by a wee bit, I still mean at least 15 thousand words =D ). Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

The week crept on, and the students seemed to stop fearing the things happening around the school. Perhaps it was because they were reassured that the happenings weren't a threat, or that the professors knew perfectly well how to fix them, but it had become a sort of joke. It was not uncommon to hear students say things like, "you'd best work harder on your homework—it's essays as poor as that that made the ceiling go out," and "where did you even _get_ those horrible robes? I bet that's what made the paintings stop moving."

The professors, on the other hand, were all stressed and terse. Albus held an emergency faculty meeting on Thursday at lunch during which they discussed everything that had happened.

"Is there anything else that any of you have noticed?" asked Albus, after listing the things that were going wrong.

Pomona shyly raised her hand and Albus nodded at her.

"The…some of the plants are dying," she said. "Poppy, I know you asked for Lunar Fly Trap cuttings and Lizardroot and…well…that list, but almost all of them are dying suddenly. I don't think you would be able to make any potions out of them."

"I can go buy some tomorrow," responded Poppy Pomfrey, who was a year or two younger than Minerva, and just as beautiful. Many of the older students had faked sickness or injury in order to be in her care. They only ever did it once, though, and Harry had heard rumors that she she made them drink vile-tasting and not entirely necessary vitamin potions.

"And I," Pomfrey continued, "am having trouble implementing some of our potions. Some of them need a magical catalyst in the air to brew properly, and our air right now is just not up to snuff! At this rate, I will have to buy fully made potions."

Albus nodded. "As soon as you can, please."

"Ms. Berry needs regular attending today, but tomorrow I may have time."

"Thank you," said Albus. "Anyone else?" he asked. When the room stayed quiet, he continued. "I must repeat myself—if any one of you has _any _ideas pertaining to why this might be happening, please share them. If there is nothing, the meeting may adjourn."

Most of the professors left their seats, and Albus sat back down into his chair, almost visibly discouraged. Harry put his hand on Albus's and they sat there until everyone had left.

"I can go ask the house elves about the food," said Harry. "You know, see how many meals they could provide if the food stopped coming."

"May I accompany you?"

Harry nodded, and the two of them went down to the basement.

Inside the kitchen was the normal post-lunch cleaning of the table and scrubbing of the pots and pans, but there was also a good deal more noise than usual…a horrible collective wailing that seemed to come from everywhere.

Harry snagged the arm of the nearest elf who wasn't carrying anything.

"Why are all of you….making that noise?" he asked.

"We is in punishment, sirs! We's been very bad elves, very bad indeed! We has all stepped on the bottoms of hot pans, sirs, to make our feets burned in punishment."

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"We's not receiving food, sirs, we's not keeping the lockers stocked," the elf cried, and started violently twisting his ears.

"No, no, stop that!" said Harry. He was frustrated that the elves hadn't told anyone about the food not coming, but didn't want to say anything lest they all punish themselves for that, too. He sighed.

"Albus, we have to heal all of their feet…This is terrible," he said, watching an elf as his knees buckled in pain, and he fell to the floor.

Albus nodded. "While you do that," he said, "I will attempt to find out how long the remaining food will last. If need be, we can use magic to make it last longer."

"Wait…Hang on. You said earlier that we pay for the food?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Albus. "I would assume so."

"How much do we pay? Have you ever actually seen a bill?"

"I have not," said Albus. "There is a goblin at Gringotts who handles all of Hogwarts's money."

"Then how do you know we pay for the food?"

"Hogwarts does not _steal_ food, Harry, and Gamp's law prevents us from creating it."

Harry frowned. Something wasn't adding up somewhere in this mess, and eventually they were going to find what it was.

In the meantime, Harry called to all of the House Elves. "Excuse me…er…can I have your attention? I need…maybe ten of you at a time to line up here, sitting on the ground, please."

Ten house elves immediately stepped forward and sat themselves on the ground in a line in front of Harry. It was always astounding to Harry how the elves didn't need to confer about what the most efficient way to do this was or who should go; they just knew.

"Great. Thanks. Er…could you all please stick out your feet."

Twenty grubby, blistered feet with knobby, hairy toes presented themselves to Harry in a row.

Harry went down the line, and quickly healed each one.

"Good. Er. Don't hurt yourselves again." Then he said louder, "Can ten more come up? Actually, when one's done, another elf can come up…"

And due mostly to the house elves' efficiency, Harry was done healing all of the elves in the entire kitchen in under five minutes. When he was done, he said loudly, "And, er…from now on, no Hogwarts elves are ever allowed to hurt themselves. It's not allowed. If you do something wrong, you can try better next time or something, but don't hurt yourselves."

Harry turned to see Albus was smiling at him.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Just…you," said Albus. "Saving everybody."

Harry rolled his eyes, but secretly he was flattered that Albus thought so highly of him.

"What did you find out?" Harry asked, when they were back in the basement hall.

"They have some dinner food, and some breakfast food. Neither meal would be as large as what they would like to serve, but no one will starve in the next day. The lockers stopped working yesterday, but I get the impression they thought they would fix it themselves before they ran out of food. I've instructed them to go out and buy more food for tonight and the upcoming days."

Harry nodded.

* * *

That afternoon, Harry taught his NEWT students, and then it was time to try and teach Moody wandless magic. Moody, as usual, had taken the lesson with the NEWT students, and stayed behind when they all left. Harry had checked the Room of Requirement earlier, but _shockingly_ it had once again turned into a howling abyss, dysfunctional like everything else magical in the school. In light of this, they stayed in the classroom.

"So," said Harry, "when you were young, did you ever create any accidental magic?"

Moody nodded curtly.

"Can you…tell me about that?" Harry was flying by the seat of his pants. He hadn't thought _at all _about how to teach wandless magic. He'd been too busy thinking about Albus going into a coma, and then thinking a lot about how the Peverells used to live in the Hogwarts Castle, and then, recently, about all the things going wrong.

"Er…there was once when I was three," said Moody. "My mum says someone was sneaking into our house and I sent a dish flying at his head. I don't remember that, though."

Harry chuckled. "That sounds like you, but I need you to find something you remember," he said.

Harry, of course, had never actually learned wandless magic the traditional way (if there was such a thing—he'd never heard of anyone but Albus doing any wandless magic). When he'd gotten out of the crystal, he'd needed his wand; it just didn't have to be in his hand. Of course, since he broke his wand, he'd been using magic completely wandlessly, but he suspected he was still different from normal people; normal people used their wands to channel their magical part away from the rest of them, whereas Harry's magical part was already a whole separate aura, even if it was technically in his body again. He could feel that his soul was still in seven parts, even if four of them were now in his body.

"Er I…I had a friend when I was seven. He used to eat spiders to show off or be gross, you know. One day he found a wolf spider—I knew what it was, because a wolf spider killed my dog—and said he was going to eat it. That dog was pretty big, and we were only seven, so I figured he was about the same size as that dog, so I was afraid the spider would kill him. I told him not to eat it, but he was going to do it anyway. I blew up the spider."

"You…you blew the spider up?"

"Yes. It exploded in his hand. Gave him a nasty burn and he nearly lost a few fingers, but he lived."

Harry blinked a few times. "Alright. That would do, I suppose."

"Alright…now…er…here's a spider." Harry transfigured a piece of chalk into a spider and levitated it over to a desktop.

"Now…with your wand, I want you to look at the spider, and try and remember exactly how you felt when you blew up that spider to save your friend. Don't use any incantation, but if you feel angry or whatever, just let it bottle up and explode…and then the spider might explode too." He made a mental note to _not be full of shit_ in the future. "But use your wand. I think it'll be easier to start that way. And don't use an incantation, 'cause incantations make it easier to bring out intention, but you need to be able to have specific intention without using your wand. Does…does that make sense."

Moody nodded once, and glared at the spider. He glared at the spider, frowned at the spider, and finally waved his wand and the spider exploded.

"Good," said Harry. "How was that?"

"It wasn't difficult," said Moody. "It was like a silent spell, except that I couldn't think the word either, only what the spell was supposed to be."

Harry smiled and thought about how there was _no _way he would have gotten that on the first try in his fifth year.

"Good. Sounds about right. Want to try without your wand?"

"Yeah," said Moody.

"I don't expect this to work, necessarily," said Harry, transfiguring another spider out of a ball of dust on the floor. "You might need a different kind of provocation or something to be able to do it without a wand…well. I'm sure if anyone could do it, you could. Go ahead."

Moody put his wand in the back pocket of his trousers and glared at the new spider.

Nothing happened for a while, and Moody let out a breath. He sighed in frustration, and turned back to the spider.

At some point, Harry found himself getting a little bored of watching Moody's face turn red, and he went back to his office. "I'll be right back. Let me know if it works."

He cleaned up a few things, and quickly ran out of things to do, so he went back into the classroom. Moody had his back to Harry and was concentrating on the spider, his wand sticking out of his back trouser pocket. Harry watched for a moment—but… hadn't Moody once told Harry to never put his wand…

BOOM!

Blood and bone and fire flew in all directions, and Moody didn't so much as scream as sort of hiccup the wind out of his lungs in shock.

Harry immediately raced to catch Moody before he collapsed to the floor. Moody's leg was _gone_. Harry and his robes were immediately soaked in Moody's blood, and the only thing Harry could think to do was to teleport directly to the Hospital Wing.

"Somebody, Madame Pomfrey, HELP!" he yell, as soon as they hit the floor.

Madame Pomfrey crashed out of her office—very different from her elderly sweep—and darted across the room immediately. She didn't ask any questions, but started working. She swept her wand over Moody's mangled, burned stump of a leg, muttering, chanting.

"Can I help?" Harry asked.

"Dittany," said Madame Pomfrey.

"_Accio Dittany_!" said Harry, and a green bottle flew across the room.

"Pour that whole bottle over his leg. Quickly!"

"Wait," said Harry. "Won't this just…close the skin? What about his leg?"

"Too late, too late! He will bleed out if we try to take him to St. Mungos."

"But…can't you use Skele-Gro?"

"No," she said simply.

"Why not? Is it one of the ones that's effected by the magic in the air or whatever?"

"No—I've never heard of it. If I knew what that was, maybe I could use it," she snapped. "Pour the Dittany!"

Harry's eyes opened wide in realization—Skele-Gro had not been invented. Moody was going to become one-legged. Harry knew it would happen one day, as old Mad Eye had one wooden leg, but he didn't think it would be on his watch, or while Moody was _so young_.

He uncorked the bottle of Dittany and poured it all over the mangled piece of flesh where Moody's leg used to be. Immediately, skin started to grow and stretch itself all over the wound making it look days—weeks old. Meanwhile, Moody was still conscious. His eyes were rolling back in his head and his teeth were gnashing, but he didn't say a word.

Pomfrey kept chanting, and somewhere in the middle she muttered "_Accio Ferrasis!_" and another bottle of potion came zooming to her waiting hand.

"What's that for?" asked Harry.

"Replenishes the blood," she said. "Please go get the headmaster. I think he will want to know about this."

Harry nodded and vanished immediately.

When he and Albus got back, Moody was sleeping. There was a mug still clutched in his hands, so Harry suspected that Pomfrey had given him a dreamless sleep potion. Harry wished Moody was still awake so that he could apologize for…not watching well enough. He couldn't believe how useless he'd been; at the height of his power, he could have grown a new leg with his own magic.

He sighed bitterly and explained what happened to Albus and Pomfrey. Madame Pomfrey gave Harry a look of mild distain, and went about bandaging Moody's leg. Albus went up close to Harry and put an arm around his waist.

"It wasn't your fault," he said.

"I know," said Harry, "but it was on my watch."

"It happens to the best of us," said Albus. "A transfiguration student of mine lost an eye in class. Instead of changing his porcupine into a pig, he made the porcupine grow, and quite a few needles went…Well, he's still a lovely pianist."

After a while, Madame Pomfrey kicked Harry and Albus out of the Hospital Wing, and the two of them went down to dinner.

As soon as they got into the great hall, they knew that something was off; the tables were noticeably emptier than they usually were. Frankly, it was sad compared to the usual Hogwarts nightly feast. There looked to be enough food for everyone if nobody was greedy, but here and there they saw empty serving platters—there were never empty platters. There was always tons of each dish—enough so that if the whole school wanted to eat just mashed potatoes, everyone could eat just mashed potatoes. It was not so that night.

"Wow…Is this what normal food looks like?" asked Harry.

Albus frowned. "Something's wrong. The elves didn't buy more food. What's here should be enough, but…something's wrong. Please—enjoy your dinner. I will be back in a moment."

Harry would have argued, but he was starving, so he took his place at the staff table and ate.

Albus returned ten minutes later, his frown set even more firmly on his face.

"Several elves were sent to buy food four hours ago, but none of them have returned."

"Oh," said Harry. That was bad.

"I…am going to attempt to find them and bring them back. I can only hope that no harm has come to them in the meantime," said Albus.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked.

"Thank you, but I don't think that will be necessary."

Harry shrugged. He was pretty sure Albus could handle finding a few house elves, and Harry wouldn't be able to do much that Albus couldn't in the case of trouble.

He walked Albus out of the Great Hall to the empty Entrance Hall.

"Good luck," Harry said, and they kissed goodbye.

* * *

That night, Harry went back to his tower. He paced around his room for several minutes trying to think about what could possibly be going wrong with the castle, but what his mind kept returning to instead was Moody and his leg. Harry knew that it was a freak accident, but knowing that it could have been fixed in the future, or if his powers were up to snuff, or if he'd been a healer and knew how to brew Skele-Gro made him feel responsible.

So he got to work on making Moody a prosthetic leg. It was simple, really. He could do it even with his powers.

After severel hours of hard work, he ended up with a piece of wood that looked like a leg (but not like the claw-footed leg that Moody had in the future), but he'd also enchanted it to sort of move about how you wanted it to. Harry bent one of his legs out of the way tried strapping the prosthetic to his hip, and it worked much better than he'd hoped for as a leg. He was satisfied, and went to bed.

* * *

He overslept Friday morning, and awoke to his record player blasting "Hungry Like the Wolf" until he got out of bed.

He skipped breakfast and headed straight to class to teach a double period of fourth years. Some of his students asked him to stay in his classroom after class to help with that day's jinxes, and that's where Minerva found him half way through lunch.

"Crockett! May I please have a word."

"Course," said Harry. They hurried into his office and Minerva shut the door behind him with a snap.

"Have you seen—well, I suppose you haven't. Lunch today is _meager._ What is happening? Where is Albus? I just spent the last half hour casting engorgement and duplication charms on sandwiches just so that the students are fed!"

"I…he's not back?"

"He wasn't at lunch, and he wasn't at breakfast. I thought the two of you might be…you know, off somewhere together, but…"

"Does that work? Engorgement charms and stuff?"

"Well, for a while," said Minerva, "but the food's almost gone completely, and engorgement charms won't stop the food from going bad."

"In the muggle world, there's this thing called a refrigerator. You just plug it in and it keeps everything cool," said Harry.

"Electormonics don't work at Hogwarts," said Minerva.

"Well…what about an ice box? Fill something with water and freeze it with magic. That should work."

"Yes, well, it isn't permanent," said Minerva. "The fact is, we need more food."

"I'm sure Albus will be back soon," said Harry.

"We should damn well hope so."

* * *

Harry actually found himself relatively unconcerned about Albus's immediate safety. Albus was unmatched in dueling (since Harry was still recovering—and who knew if Harry would ever regain his former magical prowess?), and the smartest person Harry had ever met. Harry knew he could take care of himself and that he'd bring home the bacon, so to speak.

No, what Harry was worried about was his date with Tom Riddle, for it was set for that very evening. A few times, he considered standing Riddle up, but Harry was grateful for Riddle's help and for that alone he decided to go.

His afternoon classes passed with uncomfortable speed, and soon Harry found himself in his tower trying to figure out what to wear.

What clothing could he wear that would say "I hate you, but thanks for helping me kill part of your soul in order to save my boyfriend who you probably want dead."

Harry shivered. He'd used the word "boyfriend."

He ended up deciding on plain black robes, even though they made him feel like Snape (He may have been a hero in the end, but that didn't mean he dressed well). At the last minute, he grabbed his record, bowling ball, and hat and put them in a bag to carry with him. He didn't think he could win a duel with Voldemort in his current state, and the objects would help him stay alert for trouble.

With that bag in hand, he teleported out and reappeared in front of Hogsmeade's very own Cheshire Cat Restaurant.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! Put words in a box! It's right there, and it makes me super happy when you do. Thanks. **


	69. 6 Crockett, 9 Dumbledore

**A/N: Well, so, in this chapter is the scene many of you have been waiting for. Thank you, Mirage, for editing and mentoring. For those of you who are reading this fic for the plot and not the pairing…  
****WARNING:**** Actual slash content in this chapter! If you don't want to read the slash, **_**you can still read the rest of the chapter because the slash is well marked**_**. There will be a tripple line marking where you should stop reading, and another tripple line where you can resume. You won't miss any plot if you skip that section.  
I was a bit torn about putting it in now that I have so many **_**respectable**_** readers, but I did promise it from the beginning so it's there. I hope you like it.**

* * *

The Cheshire Cat existed in Harry's time, but he'd never actually been inside. It was a little too pricy for the students of Hogwarts to frequent, and he hadn't lived in Scotland since he was a student. The big windows of the restaurant were tinted so that it was more difficult to see in, but he suspected that people sitting inside could see out. The Cheshire Cat was on the same alley, just a few doors down, from the Hogshead, and there were a few people waiting outside in the cold for a table.

Harry sighed. He wasn't excited to be there, and it wasn't exactly going to be thrilling waiting for a table to sit with the Dark Lord. He'd much rather be out looking for Albus, even if he wasn't strictly worried about his safety. Really—he wasn't. There wasn't any threat now that they'd discussed the ring (which was now in Harry's pocket).

He wasn't worried. At all.

Really.

He'd hardly been outside a little while, though, when a high-heeled hostess in a dazzling black sequined dress edged her way outside.

"Mr. Crockett?"

Harry sighed again, this time in resignation, and followed the woman inside and through a small crowd of standing people to a table by the front windows of the dark crowded restaurant. Tom Riddle was already sitting at the table, his back to the front window.

"I hope you don't mind that I took this seat. I like to have my back to a wall," he told Harry, cutting off the beginning of the hostess's Evening Special monolog, and looking only at Harry.

Harry, being an auror, also liked to have his back to a wall so that he could always see a threat coming, but he didn't respond. He sat down, and looked up at the hostess, cuing her to continue.

"Our specials today are an Atlantic salmon with…" Harry tuned out, but kept up his eye contact to be polite.

His thoughts roamed. Maybe Albus had returned to the castle, but had been busy during the meals. –But that wasn't probable, because there hadn't been a full lunch, and Albus wouldn't have returned without the house elves.

Maybe the house elves had been kidnapped, and then Albus had been kidnapped.

No, that was improbable. Who would kidnap a bunch of Hogwarts house elves?

Voldemort. But Voldemort was with Harry, and seemed to be trying to behave.

"Sir?"

"Oh—er…I'd like some ice water, please," said Harry. "And a butterbeer, please."

The hostess turned to Riddle.

"The same," said Riddle, never taking his eyes off Harry. –Seriously, had the dude never been on a date before? He was supposed to look at the food that way, not Harry.

The hostess scurried off, disappointed that neither of them had ordered any expensive alcohol.

"I'm glad you came, Harry," said Riddle.

"Yeah," said Harry. "So, _Voldemort_, why did you pick the Cheshire Cat?"

Voldemort flinched when Harry used his name. But really—what did he expect Harry to call him? My Lord?

"I would like it if you called me Marvolo," he said. "It's my middle name. I find I don't care for Tom, and Voldemort is my…political name." Well, that answered that question.

"Alright, _Marvolo_, why did you pick the Cheshire Cat?"

"It looked like a nice restaurant," he said simply, "and it's close to Hogwarts." Harry doubted that was the reason. Voldemort was very particular about _places_. Everything had significance. That didn't mean Harry was going to find out what it was, though—and he found he didn't care that much.

Harry nodded vaguely, intensely aware of their lack of conversation and his lack of a drink to sip during the pause.

"So. What have you been up to?"

"I…have been thinking a lot about our last encounter. I spent a lot of time wondering why you would need basilisk venom—not to mention how you knew I could get it for you, and where the Chamber of Secrets is, and how to get into it."

"I know just about everything about Hogwarts," said Harry. That wasn't true, of course. He had just found out something new about Hogwarts that past weekend, and just like everyone else, he still didn't know why the magic of the castle was failing.

"Yes, but the Chamber of—"

A waiter appeared at the table with a tray on which there were two glasses of ice water, two empty glasses, and two bottles of butterbeer. Voldemort pressed his lips together, annoyed at being interrupted, but stayed quiet while the waiter distributed the drinks onto coasters.

"Thanks," said Harry when he was leaving. Riddle took a swig out of his bottle. Harry took his bottle and poured the contents into his empty glass and took a sip. Seeing the way Harry drank his drink, Voldemort poured the remainder of his butterbeer into his empty glass the same way.

"I gave the hostess your fake name," said Voldemort.

"What fake name?" asked Harry.

"Crockett," said Voldemort. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You told me yourself; your real name is Harry Potter."

"And…when did I tell you that, again?" asked Harry.

"In the basement of Hogwarts. With Wister Bloom."

"Ah..right. When you drugged me and tied me up and molested me?"

"I didn't give that woman your real name."

Harry wanted to ask, "What do you want, a pat on the head and a biscuit?" but instead he just said, "Right. Thanks."

"We are alike," insisted Voldemort.

"In which way this time?"

"We have both discarded our given names."

Harry frowned. "Well, kind of."

"We are both immeasurably powerful, and we share secrets of Hogwarts that no one else knows." Voldemort traced the condensation on his glass and gave Harry a heated look.

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"How old are you?" asked Riddle suddenly.

"Er…" Harry had to think about it. "Forty."

"_Forty_? You hardly look thirty," he said.

Well, thought Harry, there were certainly perks to being Master of Death. Harry though he looked best when he was thirty, and then he seemed to…stop changing.

"So that is why I do not remember you from Hogwarts. You left before I ever got there."

Harry gave Riddle a noncommittal smile and opened his menu.

"So," said Harry as he read the appetizers, "Will you explain to me, again, why you asked me to come here?"

"I think we could do great things together, Harry. I am impressed by you, I admit. Separately, we are each immensely powerful. Together, our power would be unmatched. There is an important choice to be made here, Harry. I have a hunger for what we could accomplish. There is so much I want to share with you. Do you want to split calamari?"

"What?" said Harry, caught off guard. Harry had been sure Riddle was talking about conquering the future or something. "Oh. Sure. I'd be up for calamari. Does it say if it's fried?"

* * *

Food made sitting with the future Dark Lord much easier. The calamari was good; Harry ate the rings, and Voldemort ate the tentacles. For dinner, Harry ordered shepherd's pie, and Voldemort ordered a steak, rare. By the time the entrees came, Voldemort was on his second butterbeer, and Harry was half way through his fourth, and he found that he desperately needed to go to the restroom. He excused himself and went to the back of the restaurant to find it, and when he got there, he didn't rush. He even made sure to sing "happy birthday" twice under his breath while he washed his hands with soap and warm water.

He emerged a few minutes later and settled back down into his seat across from Voldemort.

"How are you enjoying your meal?" Voldemort asked.

"It's good," said Harry. "Yeah."

"I am particularly partial to this brand of butterbeer."

Harry eyed his half-full glass, trying to compare the memory of its flavor to the memory of other brands. He shrugged and picked up the glass.

As he brought the glass to his mouth, though, something about the condensation made Harry's hand slip off the glass, allowing it to tumble into his lap and spill everywhere.

Harry gasped as the cold liquid hit his chest and lap. He started looking around for a napkin when some movement through the window caught his eye—a swish of a cloak and auburn hair whisking out of sight.

"Er…I'm going to go clean this up. Excuse me," said Harry. He headed back to the restroom.

Once he was inside the restroom, he checked that it was empty and, as an extra precaution, he pulled out his invisibility cloak from an inside pocket and threw it over himself. He teleported outside. Fortunately, the snow was trampled down enough that nobody would notice a new set of tracks forming themselves. He crept carefully past the window behind which he knew Voldemort was sitting, and dodged around the corner of the restaurant into a deserted alleyway where he found himself immediately pushed up against the wall. Albus yanked the invisibility cloak off and looked Harry in the eye.

"Did you drink it?"

"What? No. It spilled."

Albus visibly relaxed. "Yes. I spilled it. He put something in your drink while you were away. It may have been veritaserum or something even more sinister to bewitch your mind or ensnare your senses."

"That bastard! But where have you been?" asked Harry. "I was trying not to worry about you, but I…did."

"I found the house elves almost immediately, but we found that none of us could get back into the castle. It has been completely sealed off from the outside. I tried to send you a Patronus, but obviously it failed. Why are you…dining with Tom Riddle?"

"I…owed him a favor, and what he wanted was dinner. I was going to tell you, but there wasn't time and it didn't come up, and then you left and I…I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright, Harry. I was merely concerned for your safety."

"Merlin, I'm surprised that I didn't catch that potion. Normally I would have looked. I even have my bowling ball with me. What I mean is…thanks."

"Maybe I'll take a point for it," said Albus. "You know, for the contest."

Harry smiled. Albus smiled back and kissed Harry, pushing him into the wall behind him.

"What? Dumbledore!" Harry and Albus broke apart. Voldemort stood in the mouth of the alleyway, wand in hand. "—Harry, what is _he_ doing here?"

"Riddle, I—"

"You didn't even give me a chance!"

"You _fucking _hypocrite. You spiked my drink!"

"I just want the truth, Harry. I want to know about you! You fascinate me, Harry—but you didn't even give me a chance! You even came here with _him_."

Magic crackled through the alleyway and Harry's hair stood on end.

"You give me no choice, Harry…_Legilimens!"_ Harry gasped, and memories started flashing past his eyes, torn forward by a sickening invasion. He couldn't shut it out. Flick, flick, flick, _Harry, waking up in the crystal in the forest. Harry, finding out that he had traveled sixty years into the past._ He was dimly aware that he had fallen to his knees. And then one memory started to play, and Harry's stomach dropped.

"_Have a little remorse," said seventeen-year old Harry, circling and circling the snake-faced Dark Lord._

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

_The memory flashed forward, and there was Voldemort's corpse on the floor of the Great Hall, ignored._

There was a scream and the memory faded. Harry opened his eyes to see Albus magically kicking Tom Riddle's ass up and down the alleyway.

"And if you return," said Albus, looming over the bloody-faced Riddle, "I think you will find that you are no longer welcome here. If you ever hurt Harry again, I will personally find a punishment for you that is far worse than death. Now, be gone!"

Riddle took the hint and, after one last pleading look at Harry, apparated out.

Albus's violent magical crackle went away immediately as he went to Harry. His face softened and he fell to his knees to hold Harry's face in his hands.

"Are you alright?"

Harry found he was shivering. He'd forgotten how unpleasantly intrusive legilimency was, especially when practiced by the Dark Lord himself. "He saw me kill him, Albus. He knows my name. That's why he went after my parents…oh Merlin, I led him straight to them. Never mind that prophecy bullshit; he'll go after them now because he knows I'll kill him..."

Whether or not Albus had any idea what Harry was babbling about, he held Harry tightly.

"You're soaking wet," he said. "Can you stand? Come with me. We should get out of the open in case he comes back—with help."

* * *

.

* * *

.

* * *

Harry got up on shaking legs and leaned on Albus as they made their way out of the alleyway. They went up the street a few buildings, and Albus led Harry inside the Hogshead.

"Hello, Abe, may I use a room for a little while?"

Aberforth Dumbledore was behind the counter. He grunted his approval. "Room three's open."

"Thank you."

Harry was regaining some of his balance, so he went up the stairs ahead of Albus and he walked down the hall until he got to door three. He reached out for the door handle, but stopped because his hand was shaking so badly. He didn't remember that legilimency had after effects, but now that he thought about it, he had always woken up from those dreams about Voldemort sweating and shaky.

Albus opened the door and shuffled Harry inside.

"May I?" Albus asked.

Harry had no idea what he was referring to, but nodded anyway. Albus started unbuttoning the buttons on the front of Harry's robes. The robes had become soaking wet due to the butterbeer and snow, and fell to the floor with a thump leaving Harry in a green collared shirt and black trousers.

"This shirt makes you look even more handsome than usual," muttered Albus, suddenly very close to Harry's ear.

"Oh…er…thanks." Harry's face grew warm and his glasses started to fog up. "I actually don't really like this shirt…the color green, you know. I know you like that color, with your new ink and all, but…"

"It's because of your eyes," said Albus. "I picked that color because it reminds me of your eyes."

Harry looked at Albus, stunned. Albus gently removed Harry's fogged glasses, but Harry winced.

"You're cut." Albus put down Harry's glasses on a little table by the room's Queen Bed and lightly touched where the bridge of the glasses had dug into Harry's nose. The pain faded as the cut healed.

"This is wet, too." Albus ran the material of Harry's shirt between two of his fingers.

"Oh, er…" Harry brought his hands up to undo his shirt buttons, but they were shaking too much. Albus smiled and took over—and there was something in that smile that made Harry's heart begin to beat faster.

"Now, Harry, I asked you earlier why you were dining with Tom Riddle, and you said it was because you owed him a favor."

Harry watched, hypnotized by Albus's hands working their way down his shirt.

"May I ask, what did he do so that you owed him a favor? What could Tom Riddle possibly have done for you, having killed your parents and friends…what did he do to earn your gratitude?"

"He helped me save you," said Harry simply. "That night with the Resurrection Stone. That was his horcrux, and I needed to destroy it, but the only way to do it without harming you was by getting something that only he could get. He didn't know why I needed it, and he certainly didn't know that I was going to destroy one of his horcruxes, but he helped me, and that saved you. So I agreed to his condition, and his condition was dinner."

"I never did thank you for that." Albus smiled a humble smile. "Thank you."

"I'll take a point for saving you, then," Harry smiled, still only really paying attention to Albus's hands pushing the open shirt off his shoulders, bringing himself closer to Harry in the process.

Harry shifted his weight slightly, and the shrunken-down bowling ball in his pocket swung and hit him in the leg, where he realized he'd formed a painful bruise from falling on it. He winced.

"Bowling ball," he muttered. "Why couldn't my soul have picked a teddy bear?"

Albus took the liberty to reach into Harry's pocket and fish out the bowling ball. It was black, and resembled an eight ball for a game of pool in its shrunken state.

"I don't feel anything from this," said Albus, weighing the ball in his hand. "In the past it made me…paranoid. I thought that if your occlumency was down it would be more potent."

"I feel safe with you." Harry found his breath coming a little shorter.

Albus set the bowling ball down on the little table next to the bed and reached into Harry's pocket again. Harry stood completely still, spellbound by the patterns Albus was tracing on his chest with one finger in his other hand. This time, Albus pulled out the hat. He smiled and looked down into Harry's eyes.

"I love this hat," muttered Albus. Harry's eyes slipped out of focus and he bit his lower lip to keep from letting his jaw fall slack.

"It's elegant, a nice shape, very fine," he continued. "And I love your happiness…" He swept the hat briefly before removing it and putting it on the table with the bowling ball and Harry's glasses.

"But what I'm really very interested in…"

Harry swallowed.

"Is what's on that record of yours."

Harry very nearly moaned.

"The score is six points to nine, yes?"

Harry nodded weakly.

"You don't mind if I collect my prize now, do you?"

Harry couldn't deny him anything now…

"I've listened to all of your records…except the one with your soul in it, and I have to say I'm _intensely _curious…"

Albus let his hand trail back down Harry's chest and drop into Harry's pocket.

"Albus—I—"

"Yes, Harry?"

"If you…I'll…I won't be able to…"

Albus smiled a smile that Harry would only be able to describe later to his talking mirror in stutter-filled phrases like "and he knew _exactly _what he was doing," and then he pulled the little disk out of Harry's pocket.

Harry felt like a switch flipped inside him as soon as Albus touched the record. He felt his strength return to him with a vengeance, and the only thing he could use it for was to destroy the distance between himself and Albus. They collided with such a force that Harry knocked Albus off his feet and onto the bed. Animal instincts led Harry directly to Albus's throat; he buried his face in the crook of Albus's neck, licking, kissing, and biting all of the exposed skin he could find, all the while breathing in the lemony scent of his hair. When he ran out of skin, he sat up briefly to rip open the front of Albus's robes and shirt, and then continued, working his way down Albus's chest.

"H-Harry this is—Ah! I…"  
Harry growled and shut Albus up with a deep kiss. The man really did talktoo much.

Albus, for his part, had his hands threaded through Harry's messy hair and began to breath more and more heavily. Harry was not satisfied with that, however. He wanted to make Albus moan and cry out in pleasure. He let his full weight settle down on top of Albus and ground his hips.

"Oh _fuck!_" cried Albus.

Harry nearly lost it hearing Albus swear for the first time in all the time they'd known each other. He needed more skin, more warm, more smooth, more Albus.

And like in the zoo when he had vanished the glass to get the snake out, Harry vanished every stitch of Albus Dumbledore's perfectly fitted clothing down to his buckled boots. He was completely unaware he'd done it until he felt his hands roaming over bare skin. Albus managed to summon just enough brainpower to return the favor, and the two of them found themselves pressed together, skin to skin. They both moaned in relief, like they'd walked into an air conditioned room from a blistering desert.

There were so many things Harry wanted to do to this man—with this man. Ideas raced through his head and his body.

Albus's mind, on the other hand, was completely blank. For the first time in his life, no thoughts plagued his overworked brain. Any time a thought began to form, the pleasurable haze drowned it out before Albus could register it. He was lost in Harry's eyes, Harry's touch, Harry's intoxicating aura.

And there seemed to be music playing, egging them on. Violins and cellos danced in the background of their passion.

They were connected; Harry's raw instincts to _fuck _were wrapped around both of them like devil's snare, lashing at them like solar flares, licking them like a warm ocean and cold rain. Every time either of them felt something, the other was bound to feel the same, they were so tangled

But Harry wanted more. He needed something more than the animalistic grind. He needed—

Albus's hand wrapped around him and he moaned and arched his back. Harry tried to return the favor, but Albus flipped him on his back and began stroking up and down, and Harry f became unable to do anything but clutch the comforter beneath him and pant out throaty moans.

Their eyes locked, and seeing the desperation in Albus's eyes gave Harry a jolt of satisfaction.

But he didn't want to lose it just yet. He put a hand on Albus's chest and one on his face, and through each, he sent a wave of magic…a pleasure spell of his spur-of-the-moment creation, straight into Albus. Albus's eyes rolled back into his head and he tensed with sensation. Harry took the opportunity and flipped him over and got back on top, where he pinned Albus's shaking hands over his head with one hand, and began stroking him with the other. Briefly remembering when he'd accidentally coated himself with some sort of slippery liquid while he was drugged, Harry coated his hand with the same liquid to ease the friction.

"H-Harry…"

Harry kissed Albus and kept going.

"Harry! I.."

Harry cut him off again with another kiss.

"H-Harry, stop! —If you…I'm g—ah—going to…"

"Albus," Harry panted. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Do you trust me?"

"Ah—Yes!"

"Then let go, Albus."

Their eyes met, and Harry would swear he was looking so deep he could see Albus's soul, but that was absurd because he could feel Albus's soul, and it was all around him.

And then Albus let go, his voice groaning low and husky into Harry's ear, and Harry went over with him shouting from somewhere deep in his throat. Both were lost in a world of overwhelming pleasure until they collapsed together into a satisfied bliss.

_I love you_, thought Harry.

"I love you too," whispered Albus.

* * *

.

* * *

.

* * *

A while later, it may have been ten minutes or a day, Harry and Albus lay together in a room in the Hogshead. Harry was on his stomach, and Albus traced symbols on his back from a language that nobody but the two of them knew.

They both wished this bliss could last forever, but they knew they had work to do. They got up, got dressed, and vanished from that heaven into dark night that would challenge everything they thought they knew.

* * *

**A/N: So. Yeah. More plot to come. I hope I didn't gravely offend anyone…But if I did, it's your own damn fault for reading between the double lines! Idiot. =P Review, please!**


	70. Hogwarts, a History

**A/N: And we're back to plot, folks. I think I'll answer some questions in this chapter, but probably give you some new ones. I would actually love it if you **_**asked **_**those questions in reviews, just to make sure I cover everything when I answered them.  
And by the way, yes, that scene was in chapter number 69 on purpose. I **_**am **_**that immature.  
Anyway, enjoy.**

* * *

Harry and Albus appeared in a whirl of flame a little ways outside the Hogwarts gates.

"So you came here and couldn't get in."

"Yes," said Albus. "I found the elves were here when I came out. None of us could get back in."

"Where are they now?"

"I rented a room for them at the Hogshead until I could find a way to get back in. And I was checking on them when I found you. I took the food. It is here." He pulled out a little pouch with a zippered top from in his robes. Harry assumed that he'd both shrunken down the food and expanded the inside of the bag to put enough food in there to feed a castle's worth of people.

Harry nodded. "Well…I should be able to get in using the phoenix teleportation. I'll give it a go."

Harry clicked his heels three times. "There's no place like home." And then he vanished.

When he reappeared, he was about three yards from where he'd started.

"Damn."

Albus turned around and spotted Harry and his brow wrinkled in frustration.

"Albus! Harry!"

They both spun around. Up the path and inside the gates to Hogwarts was Minerva.

"Where the hell have you two been?"

"Minerva! Don't step outside the gates." Harry and Albus jogged the rest of the way to the gates to talk to Minerva.

"I can't, Albus. We're all trapped inside. There's no food. We all ate the same duplicated loaf of bread for dinner. Not to mention, the students can't get into or out of their dorms. I had to fly on broomstick up to the towers to talk to the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws through their windows, and nobody's heard from Hufflepuff or Slytherin. This is getting ridiculous. You need to get in here."

"We have been locked out, unfortunately. We have now tried everything. I cannot walk, ride a broom or thestral, climb, or apparate. Harry also tried to teleport, and could not. "

Minerva sighed in exasperation.

"Have you tried the vaults?"

"Minerva, I tried every—oh." Albus's face turned a little red. He and Harry shared a glance. "Remind me to raise your salary."

"Crockett, did you do something to him? Smartest wizard alive my ass…" She sighed. "Well? Get moving! Starving kids!"

Harry grabbed Albus's arm and they vanished at once.

They reappeared in Diagon Alley, right outside of Gringotts. It was a Friday night, but it was cold and well after the dinner hour, so the streets were relatively empty. The few people about seemed to be in groups and too tipsy and involved with each other to notice a column of fire appear in the middle of the street.

Harry and Albus hurried up the marble stairs and into the bank.

"You know, I really did rob Gringotts," muttered Harry as they made the long walk to the counter..

"Show me the memories, or it didn't happen," said Albus under his breath.

"I rode a dragon out."

Albus chuckled.

"Excuse me—I need to get into my vault," Harry said when they reached a counter.

The goblin looked up quickly.

It was difficult for Harry to tell, but he looked younger than any of the goblins Harry had seen.

"Do you have your key?" the goblin asked.

Harry nodded.

"Good. Come with me."

The goblin was definitely younger, and he seemed to be new. Whenever Harry had visited Gringotts in the past, the goblin had made a point of taking the key and opening the vault themselves. And the one time he'd visited Gringotts with the cloak, the whole workforce seemed to know within an instant. Harry much preferred the new guy.

They followed the goblin to the trolleys and got in one.

"What number is your vault?" the Goblin asked. Harry got the impression that he had forgotten about vault numbers in the first place until just then.

"The trolley will take us where we need to go." Albus had clearly picked up that the goblin must be new, and was going to use it to his advantage. "You must be new," he said.

That last remark flustered the goblin into forgetting procedure even further, and instead of challenging Albus, he turned and set the trolley in motion.

It wasn't long before the underground lake stretched out to their right, and the train jolted off the normal track and out over the water.

The goblin stiffened visibly in his seat, but didn't turn around or say anything for fear of looking like he didn't know what was going on—which he didn't.

Harry spotted that dark disk out on the water, and the disk turned into that cylinder sinking downward under the surface like a Native American kiva. The train approached and stopped.

"Thank you." Albus stepped out of the trolley and into the water. "We won't need a ride back."

Harry followed Albus down the stairs of the antechamber, leaving the stunned goblin behind. Harry knew that it would look to the goblin like the train had stopped in a random place in the lake and that Harry and Albus were voluntarily wading into that lake until they were completely submerged. Harry also knew that the goblin would have no qualms about turning right around and leaving them there and never telling anybody about the experience.

"Vanishing cabinets?" asked Harry when they got to the bottom of the stairs.

Albus nodded. Harry pulled his now-dry invisibility cloak out of his now-dry robes and swung it over himself and Albus. The part of the wall with the triangle on it vanished, and Harry and Albus continued on to the hallway beyond.

They reached the living room and Albus pulled off the cloak.

"My office?" he asked.

Harry opened the door of the cabinet that would take them to Albus's office. "Age before beauty."

Albus's eyes glinted and he went in, and Harry followed and closed the door behind them. A moment later, Harry pushed the door open again.

They were still in the vault.

"Damn," said Harry.

They tried again with the cabinet to Harry's room, and when that didn't work, they tried the one to Minerva's room.

Each time, they opened the doors again to the same living room in the vault.

"It is very unfortunate," said Albus, "that we do not have all three Deathly Hallows with us, or we might have entered through the Fourth Vault."

"Oh! But…But we do. You have the wand and I have the cloak, and I brought the ring! I've been keeping it on me since you told me to keep it safe."

"Harry Potter, I could kiss you."

"Don't be so presumptuous," Harry smiled mischievously. Albus grabbed Harry and swiftly kissed him. He let go (leaving Harry a little breathless) and swung the invisibility cloak over the two of them so that they could get back out into the antechamber.

Back in the antechamber, they went directly to the symbol of the Deathly Hallows in the center. The second both of them were standing on it with all three Hallows, the symbol started to descend, again, like a triangular elevator.

Down it went, just like before, accelerating. Albus lit his wand tip as it got darker and Harry twiddled his thumbs, thinking of how absurd it would be for there to be elevator music there. Then he remembered cellos and violins…

"Albus, do you remember hearing music…earlier?" He didn't have to specify when "earlier" was.

"Yes," Albus replied. "From your record. It sounded like chamber music."

Harry actually found himself giggling. Chamber music was what Albus said he liked on his Chocolate Frog Card. That, and tenpin bowling, now that Harry thought about it. He wondered whether Albus picked those things for his card because of Harry, or whether Harry's soul had picked those objects because of the frog card.

They sank deeper than Harry remembered. It seemed to take longer, and the floor even seemed to be going down faster. Finally, the very top of a door appeared on the wall, and as the floor sank, the whole door appeared. The floor stopped moving.

But something was wrong.

There was only one door.

Before, there had been a set of grand double doors—the exact replicas of the Hogwarts front doors, themselves. This door, however, was single, normal sized, and undecorated.

Harry and Albus exchanged a worried glance, but there was nowhere else to go, so Harry seized the door handle anyway and pushed.

On the other side of the door was a small room with a low ceiling and a door opposite them. It was completely empty, but something about it seemed familiar to Harry, in a small sort of way…They stepped in, off the symbol elevator, and the door slammed shut behind them.

"Do you know where we are?" asked Albus looking around the room. It was really very small. Only big enough to maybe put a table in…or…

Harry frowned. "There's something about this room…I—I think I'll remember in a bit." He glanced back at the door from which they came, and then back to the one in front of them.

"Forward, I think," said Albus.

Harry nodded vaguely, trying to remember exactly where he knew…

Albus opened the door in front of them, and then Harry knew where they were.

"We're in Hogwarts," he whispered.

There in front of them was a dark, round room with columns all around the sides. It was the very room where Harry had faced Quirrel and Voldemort, where Dumbledore hid Nicolas Flamel's Stone in Harry's first year at Hogwarts.

"I know how to get to the main part of the castle! We just go back—"

"Harry. Look."

Harry looked at Albus and then looked where Albus was looking.

Harry's heart jolted as he spotted something he had completely missed at first it in the dark—there was somebody in the middle of the room. Somebody very small. It looked like a little boy, no older than six, and he was sitting cross legged in the very center of the room, and he was facing them. Harry and Albus approached, and as they drew nearer, they could see the boy more clearly. His eyes were closed, and he was sickly pale with dark circles under his eyes. He was frowning in concentration, and he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead. In front of him were two books. One said "To Read," in large gold script that spanned the whole cover, and the other said "To Write."

"Hello?" said Harry.

The boy's eyes flew open, and he looked up at Albus, and then at Harry. Something about those eyes in a small boy was frightening, out of place.

"Hello. My name is Professor—"

"Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts." That voice couldn't be a child's. "And you're Harry Potter. _Professor Crockett_, indeed. I have been waiting for you to find me for a long time now."

"Us?" asked Harry.

"You, Harry." The boy pierced Harry with a look much beyond his years.

"But…who are you?"

"We haven't a great deal of time. Please listen. I, too, was once Master of Death. As an old man, I happened across the three Hallows."

Harry tried to ask a question—how could he have been an old man? He looked so young, but the boy kept talking.

"It was around then I decided to start a school. I took four apprentices, and when they were grown, they too wanted to pass on magic. I gave them this castle, and to each of three I gave a Hallow. I gave the cloak to Godric Gryffindor, as he was often too proud to hide and be cautious; I thought this tool might keep him alive longer. No—listen," he said as Albus tried to interrupt.

"To Slytherin, I gave the Stone, as he did not value life as much as he ought; I thought the stone would give him perspective. To Hufflepuff, the gentlest of the three, I bestowed the Elder Wand in hopes that she would keep it safe, and take its powers to the grave. And to the fourth, Ravenclaw, I gave another gift: a Diadem of Wisdom, as wisdom was what she treasured above all else. My mistake was in giving the wand to Hufflepuff. Slytherin overpowered and killed her for it."

He was babbling as if his story so far had no weight—he was just summarizing to get to the important part. Despite this, Harry's jaw was on the floor, and Albus looked like he was going to faint. Both of them wanted to ask questions, but there was no break in the boy's monolog.

"After many years of leading the school, I craved a slower paced life and I came here, and began to live through the slow movements of the castle rather than a body. I put all of my life, my magic into it."

"You're dying," said Albus suddenly.

"I am. I am no longer Master of Death, as there can only be one at a time. I have lived long enough."

"What will happen to the castle?" asked Albus.

"That is up to Harry."

"Why can't anyone get in or out of the grounds?" asked Harry.

"The safety of those in the castle was my priority. When my magic began to fail, I made sure that the last thing that would go was the protection. My magic became clumsy, and my enchantments blocked out friend and foe alike. Eventually, the way was blocked both ways. I am not sorry, however. You would not have found me had you been able to enter.

"I know you need to attend to your students, Professor," the boy said to Albus. "They are hungry and some are trapped and frightened. Now that you are back, I will let the guards down, and you may replace them with your own. I know you are skilled and powerful enough, especially with the aid of your faculty. You may go now."

"Yes. But I must ask again, who are you?"

"For the past thousand years, I have been the Hogwarts Castle, but if you wish, you may call me Merlin."

* * *

**A/N: Again, as I am wrapping up this fic, I need to make sure I tie all ends. If you have any questions, please ask them in a review so that I can make sure to answer them before I finish! Thanks!**


	71. Between a Crystal and a Hard Place

**A/N: Hey guys. This is the last chapter before the epilogue. I really hope you like it. I worked hard on this chapter. Thank you, Matt and Nessi, for supporting this addiction of mine (even if I published this before you edited it. Sorry =D.) To Nessi, for long nights listing to me talk (mostly to myself) over skype, and to Matt who was my fourth grade teacher and a professional book reviewer, and he still actually wanted to read this shit (minus the second half of chapter 69) and give me feedback =P. **

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter. I had fun writing it.**

* * *

"For the past thousand years, I have been the Hogwarts Castle, but if you wish, you may call me Merlin."

Harry's brain was having trouble keeping up with what was going on. His first instinct was to ask "and is there a surname that goes with that?" but somehow he knew that this little boy was _the_ Merlin. As in, "Order of Merlin," and "thank Merlin!" and "Merlin's shorts!" and "Merlin's saggy left—"

"I have so many questions for you," whispered Albus.

"Yes, and I promise they will all be answered and more, but now you have a job to do. I am taking down the protective enchantments around the castle. You will be able to apparae to the upper floors, but you will need to replace the enchantments soon thereafter. This is not a safe time. I know you can do it. You are one of the most powerful wizards I have ever heard of, one of the best men I have ever met, and the best headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Go well, headmaster."

A tear glistened on Albus's cheek.

"Thank you."

He smiled at Merlin, smiled at Harry, and vanished without a sound.

"Harry."

"Er…yes?" Harry found himself much more intimidated now that he was alone with Merlin.

"You have a choice to make. I am dying, and with me the castle's magic will go. You have the power to take my place."

Harry's heart sank. Why did it have to be him? Why did it _always _have to be him? And why, oh why did it have to be right after he'd found Albus? Hogwarts had been his home for years, his only real home, and he felt like he owed it to the school, but Harry didn't _want _to live out the rest of eternity in a basement. Especially not when he knew Albus was so close…

Merlin waved his hand and a staff appeared in front of him.

"Do you know what this is?"

"Er...a staff?"

"Yes. My staff. Before wizards used wands, they used staffs. Soon they'll be using matches, and then tiny little splinters of wood that one could keep under a fingernail. But yes, this is my staff. Please look at it."

Harry knelt down in front of the boy Merlin. The closer he got, the younger and sicker Merlin looked. His dark curls stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. Harry looked at the staff. It was made of some wood that twisted as it grew, and at the top, a few branches came together to form a cage around—

"That crystal. Is that—"

"You have seen it before."

It was the very same kind of sky blue crystal that had knocked Harry on the head, grown all around him, and taken him into the past. It was the same blue crystal—down to the shape and size— that now sat in his tower.

"Do you know what it does?"

"Er…Magic?"

"It manipulates life and souls. If it touches someone, it will absorb his or her soul and redistribute it to wherever it sees fit. Headmaster Armando Dipit lost his life that way. The crystal can also absorb a soul that is roaming free in the air. You were dead, Harry, when the crystal struck you in the Department of Mysteries in the future. Your soul was in the air, in the room, and the crystal absorbed it. However, you were in a room with many things, so the crystal reallocated your soul to the most magically powerful number of objects: seven. Then you stayed there for ten years, and each part of your soul grew in its object until each could function independently as a separate soul. When you woke up, you were much more powerful, and each part of you was more potent.

"And each time one of those objects broke, the crystal was there to bring it back to your body. Fawkes carried the crystal to the mountainside where your broom broke to retrieve your soul, and brought it back to you. You had the crystal in your hand when Fawkes died, and that's why when Fawkes's body was killed, his soul and that part of your soul went back into you. You even had the crystal with you when you broke your wand and gave Fawkes a new body."

"How do you know all this?"

"I am a castle. I see and hear everything that goes on within the gates. And what I don't see and hear, I can deduce. I was not born yesterday, by any stretch of the imagination.

"But we must talk about your decision. If you put your magic in this castle, you would likely never be able to use magic anywhere else. Also, there is another condition. Seven must know who you are, what you are, what you were. Albus is one, Fawkes is another, Nicolas Flamel might as well be a third. There must be four more."

"Why?"

"Secrets poison the soul, Harry. A confidant is a powerful asset."

"What?"

"Because I said so." For once Merlin sounded the age he looked until he wheezed and coughed so that his whole little-boy frame shook with a sickness that would only take the ancient. "You must tell them everything that has happened to you."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"You aren't selling this job very well. I'm not sure I like the idea of living here in this basement for the rest of eternity."

"Why, dear boy, would you do that?" Harry thought it was strange to be called "dear boy" by someone who looked like he was six. "Who, but a man such as I, would choose to live in a basement for a thousand years?"

"Who, but a man like you, would ask me to?" Harry muttered.

"You haven't understood me, Harry. Your soul is in seven parts. Only one part of your soul would need to reside in the castle—the part of your soul with your magic. The rest of you could do as it pleases. For you, powering this castle would feel as easy as breathing."

"But my magic is…it isn't what it used to be."

"It would return."

"How does this end?" asked Harry.

"You will die," said Merlin.

"It'll kill me?"

"I was merely stating that everybody dies."

"And Albus?"

"He will die, too."

Harry frowned even more. He remembered the future, thinking of the things leading up to Albus's death. First he got cursed by the ring, and his arm…his arm…his arm!

"Wait. In my time, Albus was cursed by Voldemort's horcrux, the Resurrection Stone. His arm shriveled up and everything, and it was going to kill him. But…but we broke the stone. Here. Now. The curse is gone—and it never hurt his arm in the first place; it put him into a coma. And how could Albus break the stone in the future, when it's already broken?"

"Had you considered that perhaps your professor lied to you?"

"Albus would never lie to me."

"He might if you ask him to."

Harry frowned. "Maybe. But what about his arm shriveling up?"

"I do not know. I suggest you ask your friend Nicolas Flamel."

"Why?"

"Because he might know. Why does anyone ask anyone anything?" Merlin's breath was coming in gasps and wheezes.

Harry nodded. "Alright. I'll do that. Will…will I be able to teach?"

And then something occurred to him that he hadn't thought of for a very long time.

"Voldemort cursed my job."

"Tom Riddle has, indeed, cursed your job. He has unknowingly invoked the old arts, fueling his magic with the excess emotion he has for you. The curse is intended to kill you. I doubt that it will do any such thing."

"What? Why not?"

"A switch of your job contract with that of another professor."

"_What?_ That would be murder!"

"Have you ever met someone who doesn't seem to care about living? Someone who may even be happier without being encumbered by human necessities?"

"Well…er…they always said that Professor Binns was sitting in the faculty lounge one day, and when he got up to teach, he left his body behind. –Are you saying that I should switch teaching contracts with Professor Binns?"

"I'm saying I already did. You, sir, are a History of Magic professor."

"_What?_ How? _When?_"

"I switched them the instant before you signed your contract in August, and the instant before he renewed his in September. All he wants is to teach. He loathes the habits and rituals of humanity. He has almost starved several times since coming here because he has no interest in doing anything but teaching, including eating, and I hear him muttering about how breathing gets in the way of his lectures. He is the teacher who wishes to be put in a box at the end of the year and brought out again come September."

"But…he always seemed so bored. We all thought he was a terrible teacher."

"Maybe so, but he is happy, and this will be his heaven. As long as he teaches here as a ghost, you are safe, and, as a ghost, he will be immune to the curse."

"But—"

"It's done, Harry. Changing it back would do nothing but get you killed. It is time for you to decide what you will do."

"But…it isn't possible that I do this. There was no one who looked like an older version of me in the future."

"Ah…that is one of the perks of being Master of Death. You see, unlike much of the folklore about me—and yes I have read it all—I was not born an old man. I grew up like any normal wizard, and it was in my hundredth year that I found the third Hallow. Having the aches and pains of a one hundred year old man, I often wished to have the body of someone younger. Over the next many years I appeared younger and younger. This is why many assumed that I had been born old and aged backwards; no one could fathom that I had lived so long, nor why I only seemed to get younger with time. Now, I appear as a child. I find I have more energy this way."

"That's…all very interesting, and I do know what you're talking about—I've looked the same for about ten years now—but there isn't anyone who looks like me at _any_ age."

"Well, you may be right, but I suppose that would depend entirely on what you looked like and whether or not you actually saw yourself. Do not make your choice based on your knowledge of the future; listen to your heart."

Harry listened, and it went "boom boom, boom boom, boom boom." He wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew he wanted Hogwarts to live on, magical and wonderful.

"I'll do it."

Merlin smiled a boyish grin, and for a just a fleeting moment, Harry was convinced there was hope for him to live still.

"Take the crystal out of my staff, Harry. It's alright. You can touch it."

Harry reached into the cage of wood and pulled out the shiny, blue crystal.

"What is this crystal called?" he asked.

"Does it need to have a name? Merlinite? Listen, I want you to give these books to Albus." He gestured to the large leather bound tomes in front of him, one which said "To Read," and the other "To Write." "A thousand years of my journal and readings should answer any questions he has."

"Thank you. This will mean the world to him."

"You mean the world to him. Now, take the crystal, and touch it to the floor. The crystal will know what to do."

Harry did as Merlin said.

"And don't hold a funeral for me." Merlin stood up on wobbly legs with knobby knees "They held one at every town I left when I looked old; they all thought I'd died. Oh, I loathe a funeral. Have a feast, and tell no one what it's for."

"Alright," said Harry, holding the crystal to the floor. "Thank you for everything, Merlin. I hope…I wish…you are…"

Harry was fading, and Merlin's words echoed in his ears, as if from deep in a well.

"Oh, and when the time comes, Archimedes has the egg."

"I…what…this…ah…"

Harry was gone…flying through the castle, through the walls, through the ground, through the air. He was life, he was magic, and he was more powerful than he had ever been. He saw everyone and everything in the castle. He bought life to the portraits, and the stairs. He found that there had never been any link between the kitchens and suppliers all over the world; instead, he would create food for the castle himself. He created a feast's worth, and the house elves got to work. He made the ceiling light back up with the night sky, and a put on a firework display that would go on for hours.

And then somebody was holding him, shaking him.

"Harry! Harry, please wake up."

And he opened his eyes, and there above him was Albus.

"Oh, Harry. You...I thought you were…I thought you were all _in_ the castle. Merlin is dead, Harry, but the castle is alive! It's you—I can feel that it's you. How are you awake? "

"Split soul." Harry struggled to sit up. "Only my magic's in the castle. And…oh!" Something felt odd. He fished around in his robes until he found the hat, the bowling ball, and the record. "These…these don't have my soul in them anymore. They're all back with me—everything but my magic. And Merlin—he told me to give you those books." Harry pointed to the two books. Harry and Albus were still in that distant basement of the castle. Merlin had vanished without a trace, but Albus had come back for him.

Albus smiled, and a tear dripped down off the tip of his nose and landed, hot, on Harry's face.

"How are the kids?" Harry asked.

"They're all fine. They are just discovering an unreasonable amount of delicious food and a fireworks display in the Great Hall."

Harry nodded in satisfaction, and the two of them left that dungeon in a whirl of flame to go and join the celebration.

* * *

Over the next few days, everyone could tell that there was some type of change there in the castle, but nobody could really put a finger on it. Harry spent his first few weeks as the castle adding secret passageways all over the school, and discovering old ones that no one had ever seen before. Now that he _was_ the castle, he knew where all of the secret rooms were. He liked to take Albus to visit them, and somehow all of the rooms seemed to have beds whenever they got there.

Once, on a Saturday night, Harry used his magic to find out when Albus was walking through the castle to dinner. Instead of letting him get to the Great Hall, Harry changed the corridors so that Albus's rout took him to the extra-forbidden section (or so Harry called it) of the library where Harry was waiting to surprise him with giant magical Music Roses and a private dinner.

Harry's normal magic returned; he could teach his lessons normally, though when he first started, the spells seemed to come out of the walls rather than through his fake wand.

Harry thought long and hard about the four people he would tell his story to—how he'd lived in the future, become Master of Death, was sent back in time, and now, was the magic of the castle. He did as Merlin suggested and told Nicolas first. Very little of it came as a surprise to Nicolas, and he already knew most of the story anyway. Right before Harry left Shell Cottage, he remembered something.

"So…Merlin told me you might know the answer to this," said Harry. "Say somebody's arm shriveled up and turned black. Do you know what would cause that?"

"I suppose putting it in a fire would have that effect."

"Oh…er…anything else?"

Nicolas sighed. "Once, a long time ago, I was imprisoned in Spain for about eight months and was cut off from my supply of elixir. That which you described happened to my left arm, up to about half way to my elbow. When we drink the elixir of life, that becomes our life force, and when it goes away, we do not age, wither, and die; we just wither and die. If a drinker is younger than the age at which he might have died in normal circumstances, his life force switches back to normal and he might live until he died naturally, but for someone like I, who have long overstayed our original invitation," he smiled, "I would just wither and die. It's all very natural, and when it happened to me in Spain, it didn't hurt at all. Anyway, in that prison, I was able to concentrate the withering into just my arm so that I could live as long as possible without the elixir. I was oh-so surprised when the arm came back to life... But normally, I think it happens to the whole body equally and quickly."

Something clicked into place…

Albus was taking the elixir of life, and he and Nicolas would destroy the stone, so Albus would run out of potion. He must have stocked up enough to have some every month for over four years, and then his arm would shrivel—but it wouldn't hurt like a curse would, and that eased Harry's mind. It meant that Albus had control over his own death, and would accept it gracefully.

Minerva was the next person to whom Harry told his story. She was his best friend and she deserved the truth. Harry expected her to curse him into oblivion for lying so completely to her for months, but she did not. She gave him a hug, and said "thank you for trusting me."

Next he told Hagrid. Hagrid, too, hugged him and, blubbering, told him "I knew there mus' be summat special about ya, Harry!"

Third, he spoke to Alastor Moody. Moody had been up and about, hopping around on crutches and one leg, attending classes as normal. He was as quiet, surly, and shrewd as ever. Harry held him late after class one Thursday and presented him with the magical prosthetic leg he'd made.

"And, would you sit down?" Harry asked after Moody had tried out the leg a bit. "I have something to tell you."

He told Moody everything, and when he was done, Moody's expression was the same as ever.

"Sounds about right. Thank you for the leg. May I go, or were you going to resume the wandless magic lessons?"

Harry chuckled. "I'll teach you anything you want to know, but let's keep the rest of your limbs, eh? And I don't want you poking your eye out or something."

He thought long and hard about the last person to tell. He'd considered Professor Flitwick and Penny Flamel (though, years later, he discovered that both of them had figured it out through a combination of piecing together gossip and sheer intelligence), but who he finally decided on was Peeves.

Merlin, having decided that Peeves was going to be a nuisance as soon as he showed up in the castle, had kept him locked up for almost a thousand years. Peeves identified Harry immediately as the new power source of the castle, having battled against the last one for centuries, and began terrorizing Harry and his classes. Harry finally caught him, made him stay still, and told the whole story and explained that he wasn't going to lock him up again as long as he respected Albus and didn't interrupt classes. Peeves behaved well from then on—or, behaved relatively well, anyway.

In mid April, on one beautiful spring Tuesday morning, a classroom full of fifth years showed up at Harry's office door, all quite alarmed.

"We didn't know how to get to Dumbledore's office—"

"We thought he might be here—"

"We thought you should know—"

"Will he keep teaching?"

"It just that—"

Their jumbled words eventually got across the message that Professor Cuthbert Binns had passed away and was still in his classroom, lecturing away as a ghost.

That weekend, they held the memorial service for him, but the ghost of Cuthbert Binns didn't attend; at that time he was busily working on a lesson plan for his second years, smiling a pale smile for nobody but his work.

Harry and Albus spent their summer together. They spent most of the three months on an unplottable private island somewhere around Hawaii, the deeds for which Harry found in Ignotus's vault. Harry fell off his hammock laughing when Albus came out of the beach house in flip-flops, swim trunks, and a white sun-screen nose. He'd had a very similar picture in his mind in his youth when imagining what Dumbledore did in his summers, but the real thing, auburn hair and bare, tanned skin, was _way _hotter.

While they were there, Albus received a thick envelope. He grimaced. Before he slit it open, Harry asked him what he thought was in it.

"My guess? I would say it's the Ministry again. They've sent me a letter already this summer offering me the position of Minister of Magic."

"Poor baby."

"They seem to think I had something to do with fixing the school and saving all of those students—they don't seem to understand that I had as little idea as anyone else what was going on until you fixed it."

"I didn't _fix _it. I got kidnapped and then I touched a rock to the ground."

Albus chuckled and slit open the envelope with a letter opener that he wandlessly conjured.

He looked through the envelope, through photos and forms until he found a cover letter. He scanned the top line a few times, and then smiled.

"The Chocolate Frog Company wants to put me on a card."

Harry laughed.

"Is that going to be a problem for you, sir?" He stuck his tongue out.

"I have wanted to be on a Chocolate Frog card since I was two," said Albus. "Possibly before."

He and Harry spent a full day brainstorming the different facts Albus could put on his card—Harry didn't tell him that he already knew the final card would read that he had conquered Grindelwald, worked with Nicolas Flamel to find the twelve uses of dragon blood, and that he enjoyed tenpin bowling and chamber music.

In mid-August when they returned to Hogwarts, Harry moved from his tower to live with Albus in his. Fawkes popped in shortly before Harry finished moving. He grabbed his perch from Harry's old room, and teleported it to Albus's office and put it on the desk. He went to Albus, who stroked his feathers and smiled, and then to Harry, who transformed into a phoenix to say goodbye.

The second Harry was in his phoenix form, Fawkes grabbed Harry's tail with his talons, and teleported him an inch above the golden perch. Harry quickly grabbed onto the perch so that he didn't fall over, and Fawkes didn't land at all. He sang a song like a laugh, and took off, out the open window. They saw him again once in a while; he popped in from time to time to see how they were getting along without him, but he never stood on that golden perch again, for it was no longer his; it was Harry's, and Harry would spend a number of years perched there.

And even though almost all of Harry's soul was back in his body, sometimes, late at night, when it was just Harry and Albus together in their big purple bed, both of them swore they could hear chamber music playing through the distant halls of Hogwarts.

They didn't hear from Voldemort for a good many years-or at least no sooner than they expected to, and for that time, neither Albus nor Harry could have been happier.

* * *

**A/N: Please review. The epilogue will be up on the 28****th**** of August or before. And again, please review. If you've got any questions you want answered in the epilogue, this is your last chance to ask them.**


	72. Epilogue

**A/N: Hah. I was going to wait a few days to publish this chapter, but if I have something written, I can't resist publishing it.**

**I've been working on this project for just over two years, now, and it's been a huge part of my life for those two years. This fic is now almost as long as Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I started it on a college-scouting roadtrip with my family from Seattle to San Francisco in 2009—I think I started it somewhere around Portland. I thought was going to be something like 50k words- Now I'm finishing it on a family road trip to the Southwest, and I'm publishing this somewhere around Zion Canyon. This fic has kept me sane through my senior year of high school, the rough parts of my freshman year of college, and three painful family vacations—I have discovered that I write best when I'm miserable, so sorry about that section between about…chapter 45 and 60 where I was only publishing once a month and the plot got super slow. (Matt told me something to the effect of, "Break up with that boyfriend of yours, move to Wyoming, wait until you're terribly lonely, and then write. We'll have none of this 'I'm so happy in college.' It's been terrible for your writing."). Anyway, technically I could write two sequels to this, but I need to move on with my life to some original writing. I've got about three novels all planned out and I haven't been able to start any of them, and now I will.**

** But! Stay tuned—I may occasionally put up oneshot short stories that take place between the end of Shiny and Blue and the epilogue. They will be tacked on the end of this fic as new chapters (starting with 73). **

**Anyway, I've loved seeing all of your reviews, and making all of the friends I have through this community. I hope you enjoy this epilogue, and I will now **_**officially **_**be answering any direct questions you ask in reviews (and if I don't answer them, it's probably because I've thought it's a great question and am making a short story about it or something).**

**And just so you know, this is where I always planned to end Shiny and Blue. I'm not ending it because I have other things to do or don't have time or something; I'm ending it because it's done.**

**For now, please enjoy the end of Shiny and Blue.**

* * *

It was a clear night on the Second of May in 1998, and an Unspeakable was sneaking back into work. "Unspeakables," of course were the names given to those who worked in the Department of Mysteries. Nobody really knew if it was a job title or a nickname, and the Unspeakables themselves never clarified it. In fact, they weren't allowed to talk about work at all, except to other Unspeakables.

Because of this rule, sneaking back into work was a very dangerous thing to do for an Unspeakable. Lord Voldemort had seized complete control of the Ministry of Magic and there were orders to kill anyone found there after hours without a satisfactory explanation, and an Unspeakable could provide no explanation whatsoever.

Little did this Unspeakable know, he was not any in danger of Voldemort at all. He didn't know this, of course, but at that very moment, Voldemort and all of his followers were in the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts, and Harry Potter would kill the Dark Lord before the sun rose.

This particular Unspeakable was named Bob Roberts. His friends called him Bob-Bob, but at work he was Unspeakable Bob. He was thirty two and a half, blond, and he was going back to the Department of Mysteries that night to finish some paperwork about time turners. The famous Harry Potter and his friends had _smashed_ all of the time turners two years ago, and when Unspeakable Bob got a new work partner a year later, the two of them started rebuilding the collection. Recently, he and his partner Mr. Fox had been working on a new line of time turners. These ones could take you back _years_—but nobody had tested it yet and nobody ever would if he didn't finish his grant request paperwork in time.

He and his partner had been lucky. They had a wealthy, unnamed benefactor who gave them as much money they needed for their project, plus the frequent bonuses that were big enough to buy Unspeakable Bob, his wife, and their two-year-old daughter a new house. It was turning into a dream job.

So Unspeakable Bob snuck into the Ministry of Magic and made his way as quietly as possible to his office, which was on the same floor as the Department of Mysteries, but not inside the spinning room with the thirt—twelve doors.

He unlocked his door and snuck into his office, smiling to himself when he got inside safely. He sat down and took out the grant request and a quill. He was a quarter the way down the form on the front page when he heard a whooshing and a thud in the hallway.

Bob froze, and he strained his ears to hear through the blood rushing in his head. If he was caught…

Whoever was in the hall was walking, limping, dragging himself.

Bob sorely regretted not locking his door as the noise drew nearer, but then there was another whooshing noise and the shuffling stopped and then there was a voice.

"Shit. Will you just give it up, please? He's going to be _fine_."

It was his partner, Mr. Fox!

Mr. Fox was a strange man. He was a clean-shaven older man with a great thick matt of salt and pepper hair that stuck up in all directions, and startling green eyes behind round glasses. Despite looking like he was maybe sixty, he spoke with the same slang as the seventeen year olds and walked with as much energy and spring as a twenty-year-old marathon runner.

Working with Mr. Fox was very interesting; he seemed to know everything, but he was interested in the strangest things. For example, he spent his first week in the Department asking questions about the spinning room, of all things. Why were there twelve doors? Did they ever add any? How was it made? The spinning room was probably the _least _interesting thing in the entire Department, though Unspeakable Bob.

But Mr. Fox certainly got his work done, and more. Bob had never actually seen Mr. Fox do any magic, but the work the old man accomplished when Bob wasn't there was impressive and copious.

Mr. Fox didn't talk much, and Unspeakable Bob had never gotten him to come out for a pint after work or anything. The man gave off vibes of someone who was always thinking of something else—something sad, and recently, his health had been declining. Ever since the beginning of March, Mr. Fox had looked paler and paler.

And though it was obvious right now that Mr. Fox though he was speaking to somebody out in the hallway, there was no response. Unspeakable Bob had become concerned recently that Mr. Fox's mind was going; he had started to catch the old man muttering to himself.

_He must have sleep-walked here_, thought Unspeakable Bob. _I should get him home before we're both killed_.

Unspeakable Bob stood up and went to the door. He cracked the door open just an inch and peered out.

Mr. Fox was outside his door, and he looked _awful_. His normally fluffy gray hair was matted and stuck to his face with sweat. His sparkling green eyes were circled with sunken dark skin; he looked like he could be eighty, and sick, at that. He was hunched over, carrying a bag that looked much too heavy for him. Unspeakable Bob was about to open the door all the way and offer to help carry the bag when Mr. Fox spoke again.

"Archimedes, don't make me do this. I respect you and what you're trying to do, but—"

He broke off coughing, hacking, wheezing so much he almost collapsed.

Unspeakable Bob looked out where Mr. Fox's imaginary conversation partner was and—

There was a giant, coal black bird with at least a six food wingspan hovering in the middle of the hall. Black flames licked the air around him like he was at the edge of some demonic portal.

And he looked pissed.

He snapped his beak, and beat his wings, and probably could have shot fire out of his mean, rolling eyes.

Mr. Fox's face hardened into a look of determination. He looked to summon all of the strength he had left, and ran at the bird, dove, and tackled it square on. But before ether of them hit the floor, they vanished in a whirl of orange flame.

For a few seconds, the only sound was Unspeakable Bob's racing heart, but then the air in front of the office burst into flames again, and Mr. Fox was there when the flames subsided. The bird seemed to have gone, so Unspeakable Bob took the opportunity to burst through the door and—

"Mr. Fox! Are you alright? What was that bird? You were on fire! What happened? What are you doing here?"

"Bob!—You shouldn't be here. Go home—" He acted like he was trying to sound angry and stern, but he broke down into a coughing fit that ruined the effect.

"Let me get that bag for you," said Bob.

"No!" He coughed again and started hauling himself down the hall towards the spinning room. "No, _thank you_. If you knew how difficult it was for me to get some of the stuff in here, you would understand why I don't want to let go of it."

"You should be resting, Sir. I don't think you're well."

Mr. Fox actually laughed. "I will be quite well very soon, thank you. You should go home."

"But, Sir, I'm here to finish the grant paperwork."

"The paperwork? We won't need a grant. The turner works. Get your pay. It's in your drawer, and then go home to your family." Unspeakable Bob would later discover, in that drawer, a key to a small vault with enough money to support him and his family for the rest of his life.

"What? But I can't leave you here, Mr. Fox."

Mr. Fox sighed. "I suppose you might be useful. You may stay on one condition."

Unspeakable Bob doubted that Mr. Fox was in any position to enforce this condition and he was a little insulted by being called "useful," but he nodded anyway.

"You must do everything I say. If I tell you to hide, you will do so. If I tell you to flee, you will obey. If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

Unspeakable Bob nodded. "Fine."

"Good. Please open that door." He gestured with a hand to the door of the spinning room, and by the way he pointed, his arm looked like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Bob hurried to the door and opened it for Mr. Fox. The moment both of them were inside, the room started spinning. Mr. Fox doubled over like he was going to be sick. When the room stopped spinning, he reached into his bag, pulled out a small square pad of smooth yellow paper, and threw it to Bob.

"Open a door, and if I say so, put a sticky-note on it and then close it."

Bob assumed that a sticky-note was one of the pieces of paper in the stack he held in his hand. He opened the door in front of him. It was the Chamber of the Dias.

"Ok. Put a sticky note."

Bob pulled off a sticky note and put it on the door.

"Good. Close the door, please."

Bob closed the door and the room began to spin again, but this time, there was a slight blur of yellow in the blue light.

They repeated this process twice more, and on the third door, they found the Time Room where both of them worked.

"Hold the door open, please."

Mr. Fox shuffled into the Time Room and over to his desk. Bob tried to see what he was doing, but he had turned his back. He seemed to be tucking something else into his bag. Later he would find out that Mr. Fox had stolen their project, the giant time turner.

He shuffled back out again. "Sticky note, please."

Bob put a sticky note on the door and closed it again.

The room spun for a moment or two, and Mr. Fox looked more and more like he could keel over and die.

"Now," said Mr. Fox, straitening up as best he could. "I want you to count the doors for me, please."

"Um…There are twelve," frowned Bob. Everybody knew that.

"No…Count them. Point to each door and count off."

Feeling a little silly, Unspeakable Bob pointed to the first door. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, um…er." He stopped for a moment, somehow losing track, and then started again. "… Nine—"

"You can stop, thanks."

Unspeakable Bob was thoroughly confused. Clearly Mr. Fox had lost his mind. Bob was about to take matters into his own hands, forcing Mr. Fox to come with him to St. Mungo's, when the air in front of them burst into black flames, and from within the black flames appeared a bird—the same black bird from earlier.

"Damnit. Archimedes, I need him. He'll be _fine. _Bob, have you ever cast an Unforgivable?"

"W-what? No! Of course not."

"I need you to cast _Avada Kedavera_ at him. Can you do that?"

"No!"

"He's a phoenix. He'll come back to life in a bit. It'll be fine."

"I…I can't!"

Mr. Fox groaned in frustration. "It's him or us! If it makes you feel better, cast _reducto _or something! Do it now!"

But the bird dove at Mr. Fox—more specifically at the bag he carried. Before Bob could even lift his wand, it was over. Mr. Fox, with reflexes beyond what Bob thought the old man was capable of, let alone what humans were capable of, had grabbed the long neck of the black phoenix and snapped it. The bird burst into flames and fell in ashes to the floor.

"He'll be up in a while. You need to be gone when he gets better."

"But he's dead!"

"Read some damn phoenix lore, boy! Now, I suppose it's good you're here. I need you to take this."

Mr. Fox reached into his bag once again and pulled out a package. On it was a note. All it said was, _"Use it well_."

"I need you to give this to Harry Potter's oldest son, James on February 28th in the year 2019. Can you do that?"

"Harry Potter doesn't have a—"

"He will, and he'll name him James. Just…do it."

"Okay…"

"And maybe take the baby bird in that pile of ashes outside and put it somewhere nice. That way Archimedes won't try to kill you and your family for associating with me."

"_What?_"

"Er…I suppose I should…It's been er…lovely working with you. I'm sure you'll be fine. And if anybody asks about me, you don't have to say you know anything."

"But, Mr. Fox!"

"Oh—and enjoy the festivities tomorrow. Bye!" Mr. Fox actually grinned, and for just a moment, his sickly pale cheeks, sunken eyes, and sheen of sweat didn't look bad at all.

Mr. Fox darted across the room and opened a door...no...vanished into thin air, because there was no…

Bob shook himself. This really was the department of mysteries. He poked through the ashes on the floor and found a little ugly black bird. He gingerly scooped it up, and brought it outside the Ministry. He walked back to Ministry entrance, quite worried about lots of different things, until he was completely distracted by a very short wizard in a top hat hugging him around the middle.

"Rejoice! You-Know-Who's dead!"

* * *

Harry sighed in relief, knowing that nothing could penetrate that room—nothing except one very special bowling ball.

The room was not large; it had two doors, was full of shelves, and a strange assortment of objects. He began fishing around in the sack and pulled out several items. First was a large, red egg—his long-sought prize. That was the item he had spent the last decade searching for, and he had almost found it too late. He set the egg down gently, and reached back into the bag.

He pulled out a giant time turner, the one he'd helped Bob Roberts create, and put it on a shelf.

The third object he pulled out was about the size of two fists wrapped in cloth. He crossed the room to the second door, and pulled up a chair in front of it. With no small difficulty, he heaved himself up to stand on the chair, and lifted the item in his hands high above his head to where there was a shelf above the door.

When he pulled the cloth away, a shining blue crystal was left. It had grown from the size of a thumb to the size of two fists over the past forty years, and would grow large enough in the next twenty years to kill a man, if it happened to fall on one.

He sighed. He loved that shade of blue…

And on that thought, he drifted away, fading into nothing.

When he woke up, he seemed to be lying on a cloud. He wasn't wearing anything, but that didn't seem to be a problem. He stood up and looked around.

It was so familiar…and as he remembered it, arches began to form, benches, platforms.

And then somebody called out from behind him through the fading fog, and he turned around.

And there was Albus. Before either of them knew it, they were embracing. "I waited here for you," Albus breathed into Harry's neck. "And to my delight, little seventeen year-old Harry Potter came and visited me before you did, just like you said he would."

Harry smiled. "Thank you for waiting. I missed you."

"And I missed you. Did it all work?"

"I found Fawkes, yeah, and I can tell there's only six sevenths of me here right now. The last piece is still in Hogwarts. I think the bit of phoenix in me will keep it alive even if little Harry is Master of Death now…And Minerva said she'd put the Lighting Broom in the Department as soon as it's released. She said 'yes, but this is the last bloody broom I'm buying for you, Crockett. That Nimbus 2000 nearly cleaned out my vault.' Imagine her face the next time she visits her vault and sees how much gold I sent…"

Albus chuckled. "She will make a good headmistress."

"Yes she will. I'll miss her."

They took a moment to look into each other's eyes, and Harry realized how long a year without Albus had really been.

A whistle blew in the distance.

"So, where do we go now?" Harry asked.

"Well," said Albus "Have you your ticket, Mr. Potter?"

Harry laughed. The two of them clasped hands, grinned at each other, and went to board the train to the next great adventure.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading Shiny and Blue! It's been great writing it! Please let me know what you thought. Yay.**

**-Moonlight**


End file.
